Chapter Text
The vibrant hues of All Might's heroic deeds flashed across the television screen, a dazzling display of power and charisma that usually sent shivers of awe down the spines of most four-year-olds. In the small, cluttered living room of the Midoriya household, Inko watched with a soft smile as the number one hero effortlessly apprehended a villain with a booming laugh and a signature catchphrase. But beside her, Izuku sat with a furrowed brow, his emerald eyes narrowed in critical observation rather than admiration.
"He just... punched him," Izuku muttered, his small hands fidgeting with a discarded circuit board he'd salvaged from a broken toy. "He didn't even try to analyze the villain's quirk or the structural integrity of the building they were fighting near. Just... pow." He punctuated his statement with a dismissive wave of his hand.
Inko chuckled, ruffling his already messy green curls. "That's All Might, sweetie. He's strong and saves everyone with a smile!"
Izuku sighed, a sound far too world-weary for a child his age. "Strength is important, Mom, I know. But it's not everything. What if the villain had a quirk that couldn't be beaten by just punching? What if the building was unstable and could have collapsed on innocent people? They just rely on their quirks, like it solves every single problem." He poked at the circuit board with a small screwdriver, his gaze intense. "It's... inefficient. Logically unsound."
His mother blinked, a little taken aback by his unusually analytical pronouncements. Most children his age were mimicking All Might's poses and shouting "Plus Ultra!" Izuku, on the other hand, seemed more interested in the mechanics of the world around him, constantly taking apart and (sometimes) putting back together anything he could get his hands on.
The news report continued, showcasing other heroes in action—a water-manipulating hero extinguishing a fire with a dramatic flourish, a speedster blurring through the streets to catch a purse snatcher, and a telekinetic hero levitating debris. With each display of quirk-based heroism, Izuku's frown deepened.
"See?" he exclaimed, pointing at the screen as the water hero simply blasted water at the flames. "They're not even considering the chemical composition of the fire! What if it was a grease fire? Water would just make it worse! It's all just... brute force and flashy abilities. Where's the strategy? Where's the... the science?"
Inko, though sometimes perplexed by her son's unusual interests, always tried to be supportive. "Well, honey, the heroes are trained professionals. They know what they're doing."
"But how do they know?" Izuku persisted, his voice rising slightly in frustration. "Do they run experiments? Do they calculate probabilities? Do they develop countermeasures based on rigorous scientific principles? It doesn't look like it! It looks like they just... react with their quirks." He threw his hands up in exasperation. "It's like humanity just stopped thinking the moment everyone started getting these... these quirks!"
His mind raced, already formulating complex theories about quirk manifestations and their limitations. He saw heroes as one-trick ponies, reliant on their innate abilities without truly understanding the underlying mechanics or exploring alternative solutions. He remembered reading (or rather, having his mother read to him) about the great scientific advancements of the past—the development of electricity, the understanding of gravity, the exploration of space. It felt like humanity had been on the cusp of a new era, an era of scientific discovery and interstellar travel, but then quirks had arrived, and everyone had become fixated on these genetic lottery tickets, forgetting the power of human intellect and systematic inquiry.
The next week was Izuku's fourth birthday, the day when children usually manifested their quirks. He watched his classmates with a detached curiosity, observing the various displays of nascent abilities—a boy who could slightly elongate his fingers, a girl who could make small sparks appear in her palms. Katsuki Bakugou, his childhood friend (or rather, tormentor in the making), already boasted a powerful explosion quirk, tiny bursts of controlled detonations erupting from his hands. Bakugou strutted around the playground, basking in the attention, a sneer plastered on his face as he showed off his burgeoning power.
"Deku, you still haven't gotten your useless quirk yet?" Bakugou sneered, shoving Izuku slightly. "You'll probably get something weak and pathetic, just like you!"
Izuku simply adjusted the imaginary glasses on his nose, a habit he'd picked up from old science documentaries. "Quirks are merely biological anomalies, Kacchan. They are interesting from a scientific standpoint, but they are not the sole measure of human potential."
Bakugou scoffed, his small explosions crackling louder. "What's that supposed to mean, you quirkless loser?"
The word hit Izuku with a strange sense of relief. He hadn't manifested a quirk. While other children his age would be crying and devastated, a small, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips.
Later that day, at the doctor's office, the diagnosis was confirmed: Izuku Midoriya was quirkless. His mother's eyes welled up with tears, a mixture of sadness and worry for her son's future in a quirk-dominated society.
"I'm so sorry, Izuku," she sobbed, pulling him into a tight hug. "I'm so sorry."
Izuku, however, patted her back reassuringly. "It's alright, Mom. Really. In fact..." He paused, a spark of excitement igniting in his emerald eyes. "This is... fascinating!"
Inko looked at him, bewildered. "Fascinating? Izuku, you won't be able to become a hero..."
"Heroes," Izuku interrupted, his voice filled with a newfound conviction, "are a temporary phenomenon. A societal crutch. They rely on unpredictable, often illogical abilities instead of systematic understanding and innovation. Humanity was on the verge of unlocking the secrets of the universe! We were close to reaching for the stars! And then... quirks. Everyone became obsessed with these genetic mutations, squandering their intellectual potential on flashy powers instead of true progress."
He gestured emphatically, his small body buzzing with energy. "Think about it, Mom! All the research, all the resources poured into quirk enhancement and hero support! What if that same effort was directed towards scientific advancement? We could have had flying cars by now! We could have cured diseases! We could have established colonies on the Moon!"
Inko stared at her son, her sadness slowly giving way to confusion. This wasn't the reaction she had expected.
"But... but being a hero is a noble goal, Izuku. They save people..."
"They react to problems, Mom," Izuku countered, his voice sharp with intellectual fervor. "They don't solve the underlying issues. They're like glorified firefighters, constantly putting out blazes instead of designing fireproof buildings in the first place! True progress comes from understanding the fundamental laws of the universe and applying that knowledge to improve life for everyone, not just reacting to crises with superpowers."
He climbed off the examination table, his small frame radiating an unexpected intensity. "This quirkless diagnosis... it's not a setback, Mom. It's an opportunity! An opportunity to focus on what truly matters: the power of the human mind! The elegance of scientific inquiry! The boundless potential of human ingenuity!" He struck a pose, one hand dramatically pointing towards the ceiling. "Let's get excited, Mom! The age of heroes is nearing its end! And the age of science... is about to begin!"
From that day forward, Izuku's obsession with science intensified. While other children played heroes and villains, Izuku could be found in his room surrounded by books on physics, chemistry, astronomy, and engineering. He devoured knowledge with an insatiable hunger, his already sharp mind absorbing complex concepts with astonishing speed. His IQ, initially within the gifted range, seemed to skyrocket as he relentlessly challenged himself, constantly seeking new information and making intricate connections between seemingly disparate fields.
His room transformed into a makeshift laboratory, filled with disassembled electronics, half-finished experiments, and stacks of notebooks filled with his meticulous observations and groundbreaking (at least in his four-year-old mind) theories. He talked to himself constantly, muttering about the inefficiencies of hero society and the glorious potential of a science-driven future.
"The reliance on quirks is a fundamental flaw in the current societal structure," he'd murmur, carefully dissecting an old radio. "It creates a system of inherent inequality, where power is arbitrarily distributed based on genetic chance. True equality can only be achieved through knowledge and understanding, accessible to all! The heroes think they're protecting us, but they're actually stagnating our progress! Ten billion percent sure of it!"
His interactions with Katsuki Bakugou remained... volatile. Bakugou, whose explosive quirk grew stronger with each passing day, continued his relentless bullying, fueled by a mixture of superiority and a strange, almost resentful awareness of Izuku's sharp intellect.
"Still playing with your junk, Deku?" Bakugou would sneer, often accompanied by his two lackeys. "Why don't you just accept that you're a quirkless nobody? You'll never be a hero!"
Izuku would often ignore him, his mind lost in some complex equation or theoretical problem. But sometimes, he couldn't resist a retort, delivered with an air of detached intellectual superiority that only infuriated Bakugou further.
"Heroism, as currently practiced, is a statistically improbable and thermodynamically inefficient method of societal problem-solving, Kacchan," Izuku would say, his gaze unwavering. "True progress lies in understanding the fundamental laws of the universe and applying them systematically."
Bakugou's response would invariably involve explosions and threats, which Izuku would calmly observe, occasionally making notes on the properties of Bakugou's quirk.
"The rapid expansion of nitroglycerin-like compounds generated by your quirk appears to exhibit a correlation between emotional state and explosive yield," he'd mumble, much to Bakugou's incandescent rage.
Despite the bullying, Izuku remained undeterred. He saw Bakugou and the other quirk-obsessed children as prime examples of the societal stagnation he so vehemently opposed. They were so focused on their innate abilities that they neglected the development of their minds, becoming reliant on brute force rather than strategic thinking.
As he grew older, his understanding of the world deepened, and his conviction solidified. He saw the limitations of hero society—the reliance on reactive measures, the lack of long-term solutions, and the inherent biases and inequalities created by the quirk system. He devoured news reports, not with admiration for the heroes, but with a critical eye, analyzing their strategies, identifying their flaws, and mentally devising more efficient, science-based solutions.
"Another building destroyed due to collateral damage," he'd sigh, shaking his head. "Imagine if they had utilized structural analysis and targeted energy dispersal techniques! The destruction could have been minimized by at least 37.8 percent! These heroes... they lack vision! They lack scientific rigor!"
He spent hours in libraries, poring over ancient texts and cutting-edge scientific journals, tracing the history of human innovation and marveling at the ingenuity of past generations. He saw a clear trajectory—from early humans using tools and fire to the scientific revolution and the dawn of the space age. Quirks, in his view, were a detour, a fascinating but ultimately limiting evolutionary branch that had distracted humanity from its true potential.
"We were on the verge of interstellar travel!" he'd exclaim to his bewildered mother. "We were unraveling the mysteries of the cosmos! And now? Everyone's just worried about who has the biggest explosion or the fastest speed! It's a tragedy! A monumental waste of human potential!"
His goal became clear, a burning ambition that fueled his relentless pursuit of knowledge. He wouldn't become a hero. He would become a scientist, a revolutionary who would dismantle the outdated and inefficient hero-centric society and usher in a new era—the age of science. He would remind humanity of its intellectual prowess, its capacity for innovation, its destiny among the stars.
"The age of heroes is drawing to a close," he'd whisper to himself, hunched over a complex diagram of a theoretical energy conduit. "Their flashy quirks and short-sighted solutions cannot sustain progress indefinitely. The future belongs to those who understand the fundamental laws of the universe, those who can innovate and create, those who can think! And I, Izuku Midoriya, quirkless wonder and harbinger of a new dawn... I will be the one to light the way! Let's get excited! The scientific revolution... is 10 billion percent inevitable!"
His journey had begun, not on a path paved with heroic aspirations, but on a quest for knowledge, driven by a profound belief in the power of the human mind and a resolute determination to reshape the world. The quirkless boy who saw heroes as foolish would one day aim to dismantle their entire system, one scientific breakthrough at a time. The age of heroes might be dominant now, but in the mind of young Izuku Midoriya, its expiration date was already being calculated.