Seven years prior, a squad of esteemed heroes launched a daring raid on an underground experiment orchestrated by a malevolent villain organization in the heart of Tokyo. Renowned pro heroes led the charge, swiftly subduing and neutralizing the villains. However, amidst the grim and desolate underground chamber, a shocking discovery awaited them.
A heap of lifeless bodies belonging to young children lay strewn about, revealing the callousness of their captors. In an adjoining room, dimly lit and adorned with the innocent trappings of an ordinary kindergarten, a peculiar sight arrested the heroes' attention. Amongst a group of children engaged in play, their eyes fixed upon the television screen, rested an infant in a crib—the youngest among them.
As if triggered by the heroes' intrusion, the children abruptly ceased their movements, their eyes transforming into a menacing crimson hue. Without warning, they launched themselves at the intruders with savage ferocity, clawing and tearing at their flesh with unrestrained fury. Reacting swiftly, a flame-wielding hero and a sharpshooting pro-hero deftly unleashed their respective abilities upon the onslaught, swiftly vanquishing the majority of the frenzied children.
Those who dared to confront the fire-wielding hero were engulfed by searing flames, reducing them to charred remnants. Yet, one child remained, persistently assailing the fire hero until met with a fatal gunshot to the head. The heroes, bewildered and shaken, rallied to execute the necessary procedures and secure the area for further investigation. Amidst the commotion, their attention fixated upon the infant, cautiously advancing towards it while keeping their weapons trained.
The rest of the SWAT team meticulously scoured the surroundings, vigilant for any lingering threats.
As the little tyke reached out with its tiny arms, sporting a relaxed expression and casting a fond gaze at the heroes, they couldn't help but feel a mix of awe and wariness. Without letting their guard down, they swiftly whipped out a sturdy metallic case, intending to plop the baby inside and haul it off to their medical experts for a thorough diagnosis.
"Holy crap, Quickshot, this place is off the charts," the fire hero exclaimed, still shaken by the frenzy of those wild kids. Quickshot, the sharpshooting pro-hero, took a moment before responding.
"Damn it all, 'Order of Kyushi' is what the SWAT team stumbled upon... It's those crazy cult freaks causing all this mess once again!" Quickshot growled with anger. "Can you believe they got their grubby hands on innocent kids? It's downright despicable!" He continued to vent his frustration while the fire hero watched with genuine concern etched on his face.
But as their minds shifted back to the little bundle in front of them, the fire hero couldn't help but worry. "That kiddo's gonna face a life of solitude and hardship. I just hope they can somehow carve out a slice of normalcy for themselves..." he mumbled, a tinge of anxiety coloring his words.
7 years later, a young lad ambled through the corridors of the orphanage, having just roused from his slumber and trudged his way to the cafeteria for breakfast. Seating himself at a chair in front of a lengthy table brimming with other children, he couldn't help but notice the palpable indifference that surrounded him. It had been this way for as long as he could recall—others shunned him, deeming him peculiar. Yet, he paid it no mind, choosing to forge ahead, dwelling within the sanctuary of his own world.
The name bestowed upon him was Kiboko, though he had never harbored much affection for it, feeling that it held no special significance—just another moniker among the multitude. Casting a brief glance at his meal, he found the usual unappetizing fare—a bowl of lackluster oatmeal, accompanied by bananas and a carton of milk. Post-breakfast, he made his way to the living room, seeking solace in front of the television screen. It was here that he found respite, engrossed in the news of valiant heroes battling nefarious villains.
Ever since he was a sprout, he had dreamed of becoming a hero. Alas, by the tender age of five, most children his age had already awakened their quirks. But Kiboko, once again, stood apart. The doctor had informed him that his quirk would manifest later than others, and perhaps, it might never materialize at all.
Letting out a disappointed sigh, Kiboko's gaze returned to the television screen, where a man of immense stature and an even greater smile caught his attention. Clad in a blue spandex suit adorned with vibrant red accents, it was none other than "All Might."
All Might had always been Kiboko's source of admiration—a hero capable of bringing smiles to the faces of others, his unwavering grin unwavering even in the midst of battle. However, despite his admiration for the symbol of peace, Kiboko found himself mired in the sorrow of his own ill-fated circumstances, with nobody to blame but the twists of fate. Left with no recourse, he sought solace within the pages of his beloved books.
As the hours passed, Kiboko ventured outside under the watchful eyes of the orphanage staff, joining a small group of children in the garden.
His gaze fell upon a struggling ant, its fragile existence nearing its end. Kiboko's heart filled with empathy as he crouched down, offering his pity to the dying insect. "I wish there was something I could do to help you, Mr. Ant," he murmured, attempting to infuse a glimmer of cheer into his words.
"In your final moments, I'll stay by your side," he solemnly promised. Thoughts of his idol, All Might, flooded his mind. The heroes he admired were always able to maintain a smile even in the face of great tragedy. Drawing inspiration from his role model, Kiboko summoned his brightest grin and offered solace to the fading ant.
"Don't worry, Mr. Ant! I'll be here with you until the end," he reassured with a comforting tone. After a few moments, the ant ceased its movements, and Kiboko released his forced smile, the sadness returning to his features.
However, his somber moment was abruptly interrupted by approaching footsteps. Kiboko's heart sank as he recognized the source— the children who had incessantly bullied him.
"What's it to you? Can't I have a moment of peace?" Kiboko retorted, his voice laced with frustration. The jeering from the kids only intensified, their taunts piercing through his defenses.
"He's definitely a freak," one of them sneered, fueling the torment. "We should stay away from him. He might turn into some super villain in the future."
"Super villain? Nah, he's just gonna end up a pathetic petty criminal, if anything," another kid chimed in, the mockery evident in his tone. The words struck a nerve within Kiboko, but he refused to let it break his resolve.
Ignoring their cruel remarks as best he could, Kiboko made up his mind to retreat from the area before their verbal assault escalated any further. However, his attempt to escape their clutches was swiftly thwarted as one of the kids grabbed him by the collar.
"Where do you think you're going, huh? We're not done with you!" the kid exclaimed, a malicious glint in their eyes.
"You always act like you're better than us, ignoring everyone and going off on your own!" spat one of the kids, their words dripping with contempt. The venomous remark hit its mark, and Kiboko could no longer contain his pent-up frustration.
"I don't bother any of you! Why do you keep tormenting me? I just want to be left alone!" Kiboko screamed, his voice shaking with anger and desperation. With a surge of adrenaline, he pushed the kid away, creating a small distance between them.
The kid, seething with rage at Kiboko's resistance, unleashed his quirk, causing his nails to grow sharp and menacing. "I'll kill you!" he snarled, launching himself at Kiboko with the intent to tear through his flesh. Yet, to his astonishment, his nails failed to penetrate Kiboko's skin, no matter how tightly he clenched his grip. "This can't be!" he thought in disbelief. "My nails can easily slice through wood! Why won't they cut through him?" As frustration gnawed at the clawed kid, Kiboko, feeling the pain from the unsuccessful attack, instinctively retaliated. With a swift strike to the face, he sent the aggressor flying several feet into the air, leaving the kid sprawled in a daze. The commotion caught the attention of the orphanage staff, who, witnessing Kiboko's punch and the distance it covered, rushed towards the scene, their concern evident on their faces.