The orphanage was quiet at night.
Too quiet.
Moonlight filtered through dusty windows, casting long shadows across the dormitory. Dozens of kids lay curled up in their beds, breathing softly in the stillness.
Sasaki Kenjiro waited until the clock struck midnight.
Click.
He slipped out of his blanket like a whisper, his feet hitting the cold wooden floor with practiced silence. His tiny frame moved like a shadow between the rows of beds, ducking past the creaky spots he'd memorized over the months.
He paused at the door, glancing back at the sleeping figures. A soft snore from Aiko, his youngest bunkmate, confirmed they were all still out cold.
"Alright. Time to train."
---
The Shed
The air outside was crisp. The stars sparkled like silver dust against the night sky, and the only sound was the distant rustling of leaves. Kenjiro crossed the yard quickly, bare feet slapping lightly against the gravel.
His destination loomed ahead—the abandoned storage shed behind the orphanage. Old, musty, and barely standing. But to Kenjiro, it was perfect. His secret dojo. His personal training ground.
He slipped inside, closing the door behind him with a soft click.
"Home sweet home," he muttered, rolling his shoulders.
Cracking his knuckles, he took a deep breath.
"First, basic stretching."
His right arm shot forward, stretching far beyond natural limits, then snapped back like a bungee cord. He repeated the motion, this time with more speed. Midway through, his fingers hardened and sharpened into mochi-like spikes.
He grinned. "Control's getting better."
Next, he focused on his legs. They melted into thick, viscous mochi, allowing him to glide across the floor with surreal fluidity.
"Mobility's insane," he whispered, reforming his limbs. "Now… durability test."
He turned to the wooden wall, clenched his fist, and—
CRACK.
Splinters flew as his punch shattered a plank. He stared at his small hand. No pain. No bruise.
"…Huh." He flexed it experimentally. "Okay, that's new."
A grin stretched across his face. "Oh, I am so broken."
---
Weeks Turned Into Months
Training became a habit. A ritual.
Each night, while others dreamed, Kenjiro honed his body and powers. He mimicked Katakuri's moves, layering hardened mochi around his arms and legs, experimenting with different forms and densities.
Eventually, he didn't need to mimic. His instincts took over. His reflexes sharpened beyond comprehension.
One night, while sliding under a beam and flipping mid-air to land softly, he whispered, "This... isn't normal anymore."
He could lift twice his weight, take hits without flinching, and punch through brick like it was paper.
And yet—he stayed quiet. Hidden. Waiting.
---
A Conversation with Mrs. Tanaka
Mrs. Tanaka, the stern but kind head of the orphanage, began noticing.
"Kenjiro," she said one evening, squinting at him as he carried a stack of heavy books like they were feathers. "That's… not normal for a boy your size."
Kenjiro tilted his head, playing dumb. "Really? I guess I just eat my vegetables?"
She gave him a flat look. "You don't. I know you hide them under the rice."
He shrugged. "Maybe I'm just strong?"
She didn't push, but her eyes lingered.
---
Years Pass
By the time he was ten, Kenjiro was a legend among the orphanage kids.
Aiko swore he once caught a falling tree branch before it crushed a cat.
Daisuke claimed Kenjiro could dodge rocks mid-throw without even looking.
One afternoon, during a rare group outing, a teenage punk tried to snatch a wallet from Mrs. Tanaka's bag.
Kenjiro reacted before anyone could blink.
He grabbed the boy's wrist with one hand. "Return it."
The punk laughed—until Kenjiro's grip tightened like a vice.
"…OW! Okay, okay!"
Mrs. Tanaka stared. "Kenjiro… what did you—"
He smiled. "He just slipped. Lucky I caught him."
She didn't believe him. But she said nothing.
---
The Announcement
Everything changed on Kenjiro's twelfth birthday.
That morning, the kids gathered for breakfast. Aiko ran up with a cupcake, grinning. "Happy birthday, Kenji!"
He ruffled her hair. "Thanks, runt."
Mrs. Tanaka clapped her hands. "Everyone, settle down. I've got an announcement."
The room quieted.
"Kenjiro," she continued, holding out a crisp envelope, "you've been accepted into Aldera Junior High. You start next week."
Kenjiro blinked. "Wait… Aldera? That Aldera? The one with—"
Kenjiro tried to keep calm, but his mind was spinning. "The timeline... that means Izuku hasn't gotten One For All yet. Bakugou's still a jerk. And me? I'm walking right into canon."
He took the envelope with a nod. "Thanks. I'll behave."
Mrs. Tanaka smiled. "Try not to break the school, alright?"
He snorted. "No promises."
---
First Day at Aldera
Aldera Junior High was a typical school. Dingy halls. Rusting lockers. Overworked teachers.
But it buzzed with talk of heroes. Quirks. U.A. High dreams.
Kenjiro adjusted his uniform, walking through the corridor like a phantom. He kept his head low, scanning for familiar faces.
"No sign of Midoriya… probably still in another class."
Then—
"Oi. New kid."
The voice was sharp, brash, and full of heat.
Kenjiro turned.
Bakugou Katsuki stood there, hands in pockets, crimson eyes burning with irritation. "You deaf? I said you're in my way."
Kenjiro didn't move. "Sidewalk's wide enough for both of us."
Bakugou's palm crackled with sparks. "The hell did you just say?"
Kenjiro tilted his head, completely calm. "You heard me."
Kids nearby gasped.
"Is he insane?" one whispered. "No one talks to Bakugou like that."
But Kenjiro? He just smiled.
Bakugou took a step closer, nostrils flaring. "You tryin' to start a fight?"
"Only if you want to lose on your first day," Kenjiro replied smoothly. "Up to you."
Bakugou's eyes narrowed. For a second, his hand flinched—but he stopped.
He scoffed. "Tch. Whatever. Freak." He stormed off.
Kenjiro exhaled slowly. "Still a hothead."
A shy voice behind him asked, "Are you crazy?"
Kenjiro turned to see a small boy with green hair and wide eyes.
Midoriya.
Kenjiro smiled. "Hey. I'm Kenjiro. You?"
"Izuku. Midoriya Izuku."
Kenjiro extended a hand. "Nice to meet you."
Midoriya blinked. "You're… not afraid of Bakugou?"
"I've seen scarier," Kenjiro said with a wink.
Midoriya laughed softly, shoulders relaxing. "Cool. Maybe we can—hang out sometime?"
Kenjiro nodded. "I'd like that."
This was it.
The beginning.
His Quirk was powerful. His knowledge, deeper than anyone knew.
And now, fate had placed him right where it all started.
Kenjiro glanced toward the window, where sunlight streamed through cracked glass.
"Let's see what this world's got for me."