The doctor looked up from the screen of his computer. He glanced at the two people seated in his office. First the boy, then the caretaker who'd brought the child to the appointment.
"He's very mature for his age." The doctor commented.
Nami, the caretaker for the little boy sat next to her, smiled. She rested a hang on his shoulder and squeezed lightly, the gesture was gentle and affectionate.
"Takeru's teachers say he always shares and never misbehaves, we're all very proud of him." Nami said, the pride in her voice glowed.
Takeru, the little boy, smiled. He looked calmly between the two adults. His small legs kicked idly in the air, dangling a few inches off the ground. He didn't display any discomfort or distress at the unfamiliar doctor's office.
The doctor finished typing on his computer. He smiled kindly and turned his attention to the little boy in his office.
"Takeru, Nami tells me there's been a few changes in your body. Could you tell me about them?" The doctor asked. The question sounded oddly like it should've been posed to a teenager who'd discovered a hair in a new place.
Takeru nodded. He spoke clearly. He didn't sound like a boy who was only four years old.
"The rope on the swing snapped while I was sitting on it. I fell, but it didn't really hurt.
Then a few days ago one of the other boys was running with scissors, auntie Nami told him not to, and he slipped in the rain. The scissors didn't hurt, they didn't pierce my skin."
The doctor digested the information with a thoughtful expression. He swivelled in his chair and typed for a few seconds on his computer.
"Takeru, what you've told me sounds like a Transformation or mutant type quirk. Is there anything else you can tell me, the more information I have, the easier it is to determine what kind of quirk you have."
Takeru's facial expression scrunched up into one of intense thought. His facial features were soft, and his short dark hair fell just above his eyebrows.
After a few moments, Takeru's concentrated expression collapsed, "No, sorry."
The doctor smiled and shook his head, "No need to apologise. For now I'm going to put your quirk down as a transformation type. I'll schedule an appointment for a few months time, and we can talk about any changes. In the meantime, call us if there's anything at all that concerns you."
The last part of the sentence was clearly directed at Nami. She nodded and smiled knowingly.
"Bye young man! It was nice to meet you!" The doctor waved goodbye.
Takeru smiled, he raised his own much smaller hand and waved back through the gap in the door as it shut slowly behind them, "Bye bye!"
Nami gently took Takeru's hand in her own. She said goodbye to the receptionist and lead them back out onto the street. She pressed a button on a set of car keys, and a car's headlights turned on in response.
The car was large, seven seats, all of which were fitted with a variety of different sized car seats. Takeru opened the passenger side door and buckled himself in. He didn't require any help.
The key turned in the ignition and the car's engine roared to life. Nami looked about the parking lot and slowly pulled away. The radio played a popular song.
The children usually demanded songs made for little kids. The repetition lit up their brains. On the journey over, as soon as the car's bluetooth connected and a nursery rhyme about ducks and jelly had begun to play, Takeru had immediatelyt requested to listen to the radio instead.
"Was that okay Takeru? The doctor was nice wasn't he." Nami said cheerily. The scenery on either side of the road flashed by as she drove. Takeru contently watched the world go by in his car seat.
"He was nice. The certificate on the wall said he went to Hokkaido, I'd like to go there one day." Takeru replied.
Nami immediately started to laugh, her short hair and cartoonish earrings gave her a lively and youthful appearance, "Most kids just talk about the lollipop!"
Takeru looked to the small orange lollipop in his palm. He inspected it thoughtfully, "I'm saving it for later."
Nami laughed again. She lowered the window slightly. The air started to whistle as they drove. She turned a dial on the car's console and the volume of the music increased.
The drive back to the orphanage was uneventful. Tokaru enjoyed staring out the window and looking at the world go by. The orphanage was a safe place, ran by kind and caring people, but they rarely left the site. He enjoyed trips to nearby parks or convenience stores. The change in scenery was exciting.
The car pulled up in front of a large building. The name of the orphanage was beautifully written on a meticulously maintained plaque.
The car's engine switched off and the music stopped. The opportunity to appreciate the peaceful silence was snatched away by a child's shout. The sound of rapid footsteps on the pebbled ground swiftly followed.
"Auntie Nami!"
Nami smiled gently. She got out of her car and crouched down, placing herself at the same level as the little girl who'd just ran up to the vehicle.
"What's wrong Yumi?" Nami asked.
She heard the sound of the car door opening. Takeru hopped down and stretched a little. He shut the car door behind him.
The little girl, Yumi, launched into the story of how someone had knocked over her sandcastle. It didn't take long before the corners of her eyes became moist with what would soon be tears.
Nami could sense the approaching wateworks. She smiled lovingly and scooped the little girl into her arms, holding her against her body, "It's okay Yum. They said they didn't mean to, accidents happen don't they? Do you remember when you spilled paint on Hana's painting?"
The main door to the orphanage swung open. The little figure of Takeru slipped inside. He paused in the doorway and turned back to the car. Nami caught the words thank you mouthed on his lips.
The orphanage was a place of constant business. The children who weren't yet old enough for elementary school were all looked after on site. The older children, although most of them didn't realise it, played a major role in keeping the younger kids in line. When they went off to school, the workload on the orphanage staff immediately increased.
Takeru had spent all his life at the orphanage. It was his world. He knew every corridor and every cupboard. He could navigate it with his eyes closed.
"Hi Takeru!"
"Hi Takeru!"
Takeru smiled and waved back to everyone who greeted him. He didn't socialize as much as his peers, it was the only point of concern amongst his otherwise excellent development.
The orphanage staff knew what it looked like when a child wanted to isolate themself. They didn't see that in Takeru. His lack of social interaction compared to others his age, wasn't because he didn't understand sharing or socialising, he just enjoyed his own company.
The staff also noted that Takeru was never rude to the other children. He knew the names of every child his age and always greeted them good morning. He was also the first to step in and defuse any arguments that broke out.
The small forest behind the main building was where Takeru spent most of his time. Another member of staff, a cheerful middle-aged woman, who was supervising the area, smiled when she sawe him.
"How was the doctor's Takeru? Did you get a lollipop?" She asked.
Takeru looked about warily. He reached slowly into his pocket and pulled something out. He kept his palm wrapped tightly around the object.
The staff member suppressed her laughter. She leaned forwards and peered down at the small deliberate opening in Takeru's hand.
She laughed and tapped her nose knowingly, "Very good."
Takeru smiled. The lollipop was swiftly returned to his pocket.
The younger children were the happiest in the orphanage. They were too little to understand the nuances of what it meant to not be looked after by parents. They had kind adults who loved them, and that was enough.
When they were older, as they approached their teens, they might begin to understand the events that had shaped their lives. Some understood that not all parents were able to look after and provide a child with a safe and loving home.
The circumstances of every child were different. The staff at the orphanage could only do their best to make sure their childhoods were filled with love and memories of a happy home.
Takeru was different to the other children. He was calm, and thoughtful. He was also funny and exceptionally witty. The wit was lost on the other children, but the staff appreciated it.
The forest behind the orphanage wasn't large. The area was clearly demarcated by tall wooden fencing. Not even the oldest children could climb it. At least not without using a quirk.
Takeru sat on an old tree stump. The sounds of other children playing nearby drifted to his ears. He didn't mind the noise. Over time, it had become comforting, reassuring. The noisiness had become part of normal life.
The four year old boy was wise beyond his age. And there was good reason for it. From the moment of his birth, Takeru's consciousness had been fully formed. The mind of a newborn struggled to contain more than twenty years of memories from a previous life.
As an infant, Takeru had slept much longer and more often than his peers. The initial concern over this was gradually forgotten as he began talking and walking and meeting regular development milestones.
The four year old Takeru still slept more often than children his age. The strain put on his small body and mind by a fully developed consciousness was signifcant. In a world full of babies that glowed in the dark or burped fire, moderately increased sleepiness was a minor detail.
My Hero Academia. If only I'd paid more attention when watching the anime. Maybe if I hadn't always been reading novels on my phone, I would remember more of the storyline. Takeru thought to himself.
The orphanage staff were strict on the amount of screen time the children could have. The older children schemed frantically to bypass this rule, but the younger children were still too innocent to think of breaking the rules.
For the children too young to attend elementary school, screen time meant watching television in the playroom. The television feed was dominated exclusively by two programmes. The first was a series of relentessly brightly-coloured cartoons, and the other was a programme broadcast by the Hero Public Safety Commision, aimed at children, featuring popular and up-and-coming heroes.
The young children in the orphanage watched heroes on television with a fascination that bordered on religious.
The face of the imposing flame hero Endeavor on television was one that always captured Takeru's full attention. Each time he saw that fiery red hair, he wished that he would've paid closer attention to the events of the anime.
There was a huge difference between watching a television show, and finding yourself suddenly living and breathing in that world. My Hero Academia, for the majority of the show, maintained a cheerful and upbeat atmosphere. The vigour and righteousness of young heroes shone so brightly that the gritty greyness of a world ruled by superpowers was often forgotten entirely.
Thank god I have a quirk. Deku wanted to apply to UA without one, but without one for all he'd be flattened to a pancake by any D-tier villain! Normal people don't have plot armour.
Takeru clenched his fist. The power quietly building in his body pulsed steadily in response along with his hearbeat.
The protagonist of My Hero Academia, Izuku, wanted to save the whole world. His unwavering determination towards helping others was the reason All Might had selected him as a successor.
Takeru didn't think that he shared the fire that drove Izuku. He wanted the world to be happy, and safe, but he understood from his previous life, that light always accompanied darkness. One simply couldn't exist without the other.
However much potential for good an invidiual might have, they had equal potential to fall into darkness.