Chapter Text
After the incident at the electronics store, things changed for Izuku.
The local news ran a story about it("Child Uses Quirk to Help Apprehend Villain")and for a few days, people recognized him when Mama took him places. Some smiled and said nice things. Others frowned and muttered about children being in danger. One man even yelled at Mama about "irresponsible parenting."
Mama held her head high and ignored them, but Izuku could tell it bothered her.
The heroes who'd arrived at the scene had filed reports, and a week later, official-looking people from the Hero Public Safety Commission came to their apartment. They were very polite but also very serious. They asked Izuku lots of questions about Echoes, had him demonstrate it, took notes on everything.
"Your son has an unusual quirk," a woman with glasses and a uncomfortably-tight-looking bun told Mama. "Mental manipulation quirks are closely monitored due to their potential for abuse. We'll need to file additional documentation."
"My son isn't going to abuse his quirk," Mama said, her voice tight and polite-angry again.
"Of course not, I'm sure he's an angel. This is purely procedural." The woman smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "We simply need to ensure proper oversight as he develops. This is standard protocol for quirks with psychological effects."
After they left, Mama hugged Izuku extra tight. "Don't let them make you feel bad about your quirk, baby. You used it to help someone. That's what matters."
Daycare became complicated too.
Some kids thought what Izuku had done was cool. They asked him to tell the story over and over, eyes wide with excitement. "You stopped a real villain! That's so awesome!"
But other kids seemed scared now. Not of Izuku exactly, but of Echoes. Of what it could do.
One girl, Hana, who'd always been friendly before, backed away when Echoes manifested during quirk show-and-tell. "That thing gets in people's heads," she whispered to her friend. "What if it makes us think scary things?"
The teachers had to have a talk with the class about quirk discrimination and how everyone's abilities were valuable. But Izuku noticed that even some of the teachers looked at Echoes with uncertain expressions.
Kacchan's reaction was the strangest.
He acted like nothing had happened at first. Then one day, he cornered Izuku on the playground, away from the other kids.
"So you really stopped a villain," Kacchan said. It wasn't quite a question.
"Yeah. I mean, the heroes caught him. I just... slowed him down."
Kacchan's jaw tightened. "With your weird quirk. By getting in his head."
"I didn't mean to! I just wrote 'stop' and-"
"Whatever." Kacchan kicked at the dirt. "Just don't think this makes you better than me or anything. You got lucky. In a real fight, my quirk would destroy yours."
"I wasn't trying to-"
"I'm still gonna be the number one hero!" Kacchan's palms sparked with small explosions. "You and your creepy quirk aren't gonna beat me. Got it, Deku?"
Before Izuku could respond, Kacchan stomped away.
Izuku stood there, confused and hurt. He hadn't been trying to compete with Kacchan. He'd just been trying to help someone who was hurt. Why did everything have to be about who was better?
But that was Kacchan. Everything was always a competition with him.
The weeks passed, and Izuku threw himself into practicing with Echoes.
He'd made an important discovery after the villain incident. Echoes could move much farther from him than he'd thought. In the electronics store, with adrenaline and fear pushing him, the creature had traveled across the entire space, at least fifteen or twenty meters, without fading at all.
At home, he tested this carefully. Mama measured out distances in the backyard with a tape measure while Izuku sent Echoes farther and farther away.
Five meters: no problem, crystal clear.
Ten meters: still solid, but Izuku had to concentrate harder.
Twenty meters: Echoes started to flicker a little, but stayed manifested.
Thirty meters: definitely harder, made Izuku's head hurt.
Forty meters: Echoes was transparent, ghostly, but still there.
They couldn't test beyond that in their small backyard, but Izuku noted it all in his hero notebook. His range was much bigger than he'd thought. Maybe when he got scared or excited, he could push Echoes even farther?
He also experimented with what words worked best:
Sound words (BANG, CRASH, RING) created loud effects that could disorient people
Command words (STOP, WAIT, FREEZE) affected people's minds, making them feel compelled to obey
Emotion words were unpredictable—FEAR made people nervous, CALM seemed to soothe, but the effects were subtle
Abstract words (JUSTICE, HOPE, DREAM) did basically nothing
The word also had to be something Izuku understood, when he tried to write a word in English he didn't know the meaning of, nothing happened
The command words were the most powerful, but also the scariest. Izuku didn't like the idea of forcing people to do things, even villains. It felt wrong, cruel.
"Heroes shouldn't make people do things," he told Echoes one afternoon. The creature floated silently beside him, as always. "but I guess it's fine if someone might get hurt."
Echoes, of course, didn't answer. It never did. But Izuku liked to think it understood.
When Izuku turned six and started elementary school, everything felt new and exciting and scary all at once.
The school was bigger than daycare, with more kids, more teachers, and actual lessons at desks instead of just playing and learning letters. Izuku loved it immediately, especially when they started teaching them to read harder books and write longer sentences.
Kacchan was in his class, which was good and bad. Good because at least there was one familiar face. Bad because Kacchan had decided that elementary school was where he'd prove he was the best at everything.
"I got a perfect score on the reading test!" Kacchan announced to anyone who'd listen. "I'm gonna be the best in the whole class!"
He usually was, too. Kacchan was smart, even if he acted like he didn't care about school. He picked up new things fast and always wanted to be first, best, strongest.
Izuku did okay in class. He was not the best like Kacchan, but good enough that teachers smiled at him and said "well done." Math was hard sometimes, and writing longer sentences made his hand hurt. But he liked learning, liked filling his brain with new information.
The quirk demonstration day was both his favorite and least favorite part of starting school.
The teacher, Mr. Ito, had all the students show their quirks one by one. Some of his classmates had amazing quirks. One boy could make plants grow super fast, a girl could turn water sticky, another kid could stick to walls like a spider.
When it was Kacchan's turn, he grinned and created a series of explosions in his palms that made everyone ooh and ahh. "My quirk is Explosion," he announced proudly. "I can make explosions whenever I want. I'm gonna use it to beat villains and become the number one hero!"
The class clapped. Mr. Ito smiled and praised Kacchan's confidence.
Then it was Izuku's turn.
He stood at the front of the class, heart beating fast, and manifested Echoes. The creature appeared beside him, floating silently with its big eyes.
Some kids gasped. One made a face. Another said "it's cute!" in a surprised voice.
"This is Echoes," Izuku explained, voice shaking a little. "It can write words on things, and the words create sounds or... or feelings. Um. It can help stop villains or wake people up or..." He trailed off, unsure how to explain.
"Can you show us?" Mr. Ito asked encouragingly.
Izuku had Echoes write "happy" on the teacher. The 'sound' started immediately in his mind, like a clock, and grew steadily louder. As it went on, the teacher started smiling and looking pleased. After a few seconds, Izuku erased it.
"Very interesting," Mr. Ito said, writing notes. "A quirk that manipulates emotion could be very good for making people feel better."
Izuku felt a warm flutter in his chest. The teacher saw how his quirk could help people!
But he also noticed Kacchan was slouching in his seat with his arms crossed, looking annoyed.
The school year continued, and Izuku settled into a routine.
Mornings were for classes: reading, writing, math, science. He learned about heroes throughout history, about famous quirk users, about how society changed after quirks appeared. It was all fascinating.
Afternoons, after school, were for quirk practice. Mama had set up a dedicated practice area and Izuku would practice manifesting Echoes, controlling its range, writing different words, and testing effects.
He made a game of it sometimes; how many words could he write before getting tired? How far could Echoes go on a good day versus a tired day? What happened if he wrote multiple words at once?
(Answer to that last one: it gave him an immediate headache and Echoes flickered out. One word at a time was the limit for now.)
Evenings were for homework and hero analysis. Izuku filled notebook after notebook with observations about pro heroes. He paid special attention to heroes who didn't have powerful combat quirks but still saved people effectively.
Months passed. Izuku turned seven, then seven and a half.
He grew taller, not by much, but enough that Mama had to buy new clothes again. His quirk control improved steadily. His range had stabilized at around forty-five to fifty meters when he really concentrated.
Kacchan grew too, in his own way. His explosions got stronger, more controlled. He topped every physical test in class, beat everyone at sports, and generally acted like he owned the school.
Their friendship (if it could still be called that) became strange and distant. Kacchan wasn't outright mean most of the time, but he wasn't friendly either. He'd group Izuku with "the extras".
Sometimes, though, Kacchan would say something that almost sounded like the old days. Like when Izuku got a good grade on a test and Kacchan muttered, "Guess you're not totally useless." Or when some older kids tried to bully a first-year and Kacchan scared them off, then glanced at Izuku like he expected... something. Approval? Recognition?
Izuku didn't understand Kacchan anymore. But he still remembered when they used to be best friends, watching All Might videos together, planning how they'd both go to UA and become heroes.
Maybe that could happen again someday.
The turning point came just before Izuku's eighth birthday.
He was walking home from school, taking the long route through the shopping district because Mama had asked him to pick up bread from the bakery. Echoes floated beside him, it stayed by his side whenever he did anything, like a constant companion.
The March afternoon was warm and pleasant. Cherry blossoms were just starting to bloom. Izuku hummed to himself, thinking about a new hero analysis he wanted to start.
That's when he heard the scream.
His head snapped up. Down the street, near the intersection, people were running and shouting. A crowd formed, but it was the kind of crowd that meant something bad was happening.
Izuku's heart started pounding. He should get help. Find a hero. Call the police.
But his feet carried him toward the commotion instead.
He pushed through the crowd (politely, saying "excuse me" even though his hands were shaking) until he could see what was happening.
A villain. Another one, bigger and scarier than the stretchy-armed robber from years prior. This one looked like a shark, gray skin, dead eyes, and a mouth full of sharp teeth. He'd smashed into a jewelry store and was now backing out, arms full of stolen goods.
But that wasn't the scary part.
The scary part was the little girl he was dragging with him, one massive arm wrapped around her waist. She was crying, terrified, maybe five years old.
"Stay back!" the shark-villain roared at the crowd. "Anyone follows me, anyone tries to stop me, and the kid gets hurt! Got it?"
The crowd murmured fearfully. Some people were on their phones, probably calling for heroes. But heroes took time to arrive, and this villain was already moving, already heading for the alley.
Izuku looked at the little girl's face. Saw her tears, her terror. Saw how small she looked in the villain's grip.
He thought about the clerk at the electronics store. About how waiting for heroes meant people got hurt. About how sometimes you had to act, even when you were scared, even when you were small.
"Echoes," he whispered.
The creature was already there, watching intently.
Izuku pushed forward through the crowd, ignoring the adults who told him to get back, to stay safe. He got as close as he dared, maybe thirty meters from the villain, and stopped.
The shark-villain hadn't noticed him yet. Too busy threatening the crowd, too focused on his escape route.
Izuku took a breath. His range was fifty meters on a good day. Thirty meters was well within it. He could do this.
"Echoes," he said quietly. "Write on his back. Where he can't see it."
The creature zipped forward, staying low and fast. Adults shouted. "That kid's using his quirk!" "Someone stop him!" "It's not safe!"-but Echoes was already there, already reaching out with one small finger to touch the villain's broad, gray back.
Izuku's mind raced. What word? What would work?
Not STOP—the villain would just fight through it, probably hurt the girl in the process. Not a loud sound, that might make him panic and squeeze harder. Something that would make him let go, make him focus on himself instead of the hostage...
Echoes' finger began to write, glowing green letters forming across the villain's shoulders:
ITCH
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then the villain's shoulders twitched. His grip on the girl loosened slightly as one hand came up to scratch at his neck.
The itching sensation started small but built quickly. That was how Echoes worked. What started as a minor annoyance became increasingly intense, impossible to ignore.
Itch.
The villain scratched harder, irritation crossing his face.
Itch. Itch.
"What the-" The villain tried to reach his back with his other hand, shifting the girl to one arm. She slipped down slightly, her feet touching the ground.
ITCH. ITCH. ITCH.
The sensation exploded into unbearable intensity. The villain roared, dropping the girl entirely as both hands clawed at his back, at his shoulders, at the invisible torment that seemed to come from inside his own skin.
"GET IT OFF! GET IT OFF ME!"
The little girl scrambled away, and people from the crowd rushed forward to pull her to safety.
The villain spun around, still scratching furiously, and his eyes landed on Izuku. On the small green creature floating beside him.
"You!" Recognition and rage twisted his shark-like features. "You did this, you little brat!"
He started toward Izuku, murder in his eyes.
Izuku's mind went blank with fear. The villain was huge, angry, and coming right at him.
Echoes moved on its own, writing directly on the villain's face this time:
FEAR
The effect was immediate and devastating.
The emotion word hit differently than the others. It didn't create a sound or a sensation. It amplified something already inside the villain, some small kernel of fear that existed in everyone. Made it echo, reverberate, grow until it filled his entire mind.
The villain's charge faltered. His eyes went wide. His breathing became rapid and shallow.
FEAR. FEAR. FEAR.
Whatever the villain saw in that moment, maybe his own capture, maybe prison, maybe something deeper and more personal, it stopped him cold. He fell to his knees, shaking, all aggression gone.
That's when the heroes arrived.
Two of them, in full costume, took in the scene and moved quickly. The villain was subdued while he was still paralyzed by fear. The little girl was reunited with her mother.
One of the heroes-a tall man with a tiger-stripe costume-approached Izuku carefully.
"Son, are you Izuku Midoriya?"
Izuku nodded, unable to speak.
"We have you on file from the previous incident. Echoes, right? Mental manipulation quirk?" The hero crouched down to eye level. "That was quick thinking, using distraction before escalation. You potentially saved that child's life."
"I didn't mean to use fear," Izuku whispered. "It just... Echoes did it on its own, when he came at me, I didn't-"
"Hey." The hero put a gentle hand on Izuku's shoulder. "It's okay. You were defending yourself, and you didn't seriously hurt anyone. The villain will recover from the fear effect once your quirk's influence fades." His expression became serious. "But Izuku, this is the second time you've used your quirk in a dangerous situation. I need you to understand, you're not trained for this. You could get killed."
"I know." Tears pricked at Izuku's eyes. "But she was so small, and he was taking her, and nobody was doing anything-"
"I understand. That instinct, that desire to help? That's the heart of a true hero." The tiger-striped hero smiled. "But heart isn't enough. You need training, education, proper support. Promise me you'll wait until you're older, until you've attended a hero school. Can you do that?"
Izuku nodded, wiping his eyes.
The hero stood and looked around at the crowd that had gathered. Many were recording on their phones. "This kid just saved a life today!" he announced. "Give him a round of applause!"
The crowd clapped, some people cheering. Izuku felt his face go hot with embarrassment and pride mixed together.
When Mama arrived, someone had called her, she pulled him into a crushing hug and cried and scolded him all at once, just like before. "You can't keep doing this, Izuku! You're too young, it's too dangerous, I can't lose you..."
"I'm sorry, Mama," Izuku said into her shoulder. "I just wanted to help."
"I know. I know you did." She pulled back, and her eyes were red but also fierce. "You're so brave, Izuku. Braver than you should have to be. But please, please be careful. For me?"
"I will. I promise."
That night, the incident was all over the local news again. "Child Hero Strikes Again" one headline read. Another said "Controversial Quirk Saves Hostage, Questions Remain About Youth Vigilantism."
Izuku tried not to read the comments online (Mama said he shouldn't, but he peeked anyway). Some people thought he was amazing. Others said his quirk was too dangerous, that mental manipulation quirks should be restricted, that a child shouldn't be able to force fear into people's minds.
He closed the computer and looked at his hero notebooks stacked on his desk. All those analyses, all that training, all those dreams of UA and becoming a real hero.
Was his quirk too dangerous? Should he not use it?
But then he thought about the little girl's face when she'd been freed. The relief of her mother. The clerk from the electronics store who'd survived because Izuku had stopped the villain from escaping.
His quirk could help people. It was weird and unsettling and made people uncomfortable, but it could save lives.
He pulled out a notebook and wrote:
"Age 7, I helped save hostage. I discovered Echoes can work on its own sometimes when I'm in danger, it chose FEAR without me telling it to. I need to understand this better and to make sure I stay in control."
He closed the notebook and looked out his window at the city lights. Somewhere out there, heroes were working, saving people, making the world safer.