Leon had grown to be taller than his peers. It wasn't something he had worked for or even particularly cared about—it was simply a matter of lineage.
At thirteen years old, he already stood at 172 cm (5'6"), a height that easily put him above most of his classmates. In Japan, where the average height for adult men barely reached 171 cm, it meant he was well ahead of the curve. Not that it was surprising.
The only people he personally knew who were taller than him were his grandfather and two others—Victor and Gareth. They weren't just anyone. They were Thadius's personal bodyguards, men trained in combat and discipline, and occasionally, they were tasked with teaching him a lesson.
Especially Gareth.
That man was built like a mountain, standing at an imposing 2 meters (6'5"). Every time Leon had been forced into a training session with him, he had felt like he was fighting a brick wall—one that could hit back with twice the force.
But despite all that, it wasn't Gareth or Victor that occupied his mind at the moment.
It was the hunched figure of Izuku Midoriya, nervously waving at him from across the school gates.
Leon narrowed his eyes slightly, not in annoyance, but in mild exasperation.
How did this happen?
He had planned to leave school, head home, and cultivate for a bit before dropping straight to sleep. His mood that day had been leaning toward laziness, so he had already decided he would slack off more than usual.
And yet… here he was.
A little headache seemed to spring up at the sight of Midoriya standing there, clearly waiting for him.
It wasn't difficult for the green-haired boy to find him.
Leon attended one of the most prestigious private schools in the city. It was an institution designed for the elite—the children of politicians, CEOs, and influential figures. Most of the students there came from well-off families, their lives set on a golden path from the moment they were born. Some even had private drivers waiting outside to take them home in sleek, high-end cars.
The uniform itself was well-known. Tailored, sharp, and designed to exude wealth and status. A single glance at it was enough for most people to recognize which school it belonged to.
So, it made sense.
It wasn't hard for Midoriya to ask around, to follow the clues, and eventually, to wait outside the school gates for him.
Leon sighed, rubbing his temple before finally deciding to walk over.
This was probably going to be annoying.
…
The park was quiet at this hour.
Not empty—there were still people around—but quiet enough that their conversation wouldn't draw unwanted attention. Parents sat on benches, idly watching their children climb the colorful playground structures. A couple of teenagers kicked a soccer ball back and forth near the open grass field, their laughter carrying through the breeze. The air smelled faintly of cut grass and the distant sweetness of a food cart selling crepes near the entrance.
Leon took a slow sip of his juice, feeling the cold condensation against his fingers. Midoriya, on the other hand, fidgeted with his own bottle, twisting the cap on and off as if the repetitive motion would somehow make speaking easier.
Leon didn't rush him.
Midoriya would talk when he was ready.
And sure enough—
"I… I thought about what you said before."
Leon's gaze flickered toward him. Midoriya kept his eyes on his drink, his grip tightening ever so slightly. His voice was quiet but steady.
He was serious.
Leon leaned back against the park bench, rolling his bottle between his palms. "And?"
A deep breath. "I—I want to act on it."
The words weren't loud, weren't forceful, but they carried weight. Something had changed in Midoriya. There was no longer just admiration for heroes in his voice—there was resolve.
Leon hummed, tilting his head slightly. "Good for you." He took another sip, letting the silence stretch between them. A light breeze rustled the trees, their shadows shifting slightly under the late afternoon sun.
Midoriya didn't respond right away, as if waiting for something more.
But when Leon said nothing else, he finally asked, hesitant but hopeful—
"…I-Is that all?"
Leon sighed, stretching his legs out. "What do you want me to say?" He glanced sideways, eyes half-lidded. "You've already made up your mind. That's the hardest part. So why come to me?"
Midoriya stiffened slightly. His fingers twitched against his bottle.
Leon's tone wasn't dismissive, but it wasn't encouraging either. It was simply stating a fact. Midoriya had already decided something important. Leon wasn't going to hold his hand and tell him he did a good job like a kindergarten teacher.
"…Because I don't know where to start."
Leon exhaled through his nose. "Figured as much."
Midoriya turned to face him fully, eyes wide with something between nerves and determination. "You— You said it before, that I needed to move, that I needed to do something if I really wanted to be a hero." He swallowed. "But I don't know how to start. I don't have a Quirk, I don't have any experience—I don't even know if what I'm doing is right." His voice dropped slightly. "But I want to try."
Leon closed his eyes for a moment, as if processing the words.
Then, with a slow, thoughtful tone, he spoke—
"Most people don't."
Midoriya blinked. "Huh?"
Leon turned his head slightly, gazing at the open field ahead. "Most people don't know if what they're doing is 'right.' You think pro heroes had a guidebook when they started?" His fingers tapped against his bottle. "You don't wait for someone to hand you instructions. You move, you make mistakes, you adjust." He shrugged. "That's how anything starts."
Midoriya bit his lip. His grip tightened on his juice bottle. "But… can I really do it?" His voice was low, uncertain, like he wasn't sure he even wanted to hear the answer.
Leon sighed. "What do you mean?"
Midoriya hesitated, then—
"I mean, can I really become a hero?" His voice wavered, but there was something desperate underneath it. "Even without a Quirk? Even if I train every day, push myself past my limits—will that ever be enough? Or am I just—just wasting my time?"
Leon studied him for a moment.
Then, after a brief pause, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Alright. Let's talk about something."
Midoriya looked up, confused.
"Before Quirks, the human body had a natural potential. Let's say, for simplicity's sake, that number was 100." Leon gestured loosely with his hand. "People trained their bodies, built their strength, sharpened their minds. That was the limit of humanity back then."
Midoriya nodded slowly, listening.
"But then Quirks happened. With each new generation, the human body's potential grew. Let's say that, in this generation, the potential is 200." Leon lifted his juice bottle and pointed at it. "But here's the catch—Quirks take up some of that potential."
Midoriya blinked. "Wait—what?"
Leon smirked slightly. "Think about it. Let's say someone in this generation has a potential of 200, but their Quirk takes up 100 of that. That means their body is left with just 100 to work with." He leaned back. "And what happens? People rely on their Quirks. They train their abilities, not their bodies. That's why you see Pro Heroes with insane powers but average physical stats."
Midoriya's eyes widened.
It made sense.
Quirk users weren't weak—not at all—but they focused on their powers first and their bodies second.
Leon exhaled, glancing up at the sky. "Of course, there are exceptions—people who have powerful Quirks and still train their bodies to the max. But they aren't the norm. And, honestly?" He looked back at Midoriya. "You don't need to worry about them. They're not your competition."
Midoriya swallowed hard, absorbing every word.
Leon smirked. "You? You have 200 out of 200. No Quirk taking up space, no shortcuts to rely on. If you train, if you push yourself, you'll be operating at full capacity. And that?" He tilted his head. "That's something most people don't have."
Midoriya's breath hitched.
It wasn't the first time someone told him he could be strong without a Quirk.
But it was the first time someone explained why.
The first time someone made him believe it wasn't just empty words.
Leon took a final sip of his juice before tossing the empty bottle into a nearby trash can. "Of course, that's all just theory. Whether you make something of yourself or not? That's up to you."
Midoriya clenched his fists.
No Quirk.
No shortcuts.
But maybe… maybe he wasn't completely hopeless.
Leon stood, stretching his arms above his head. "Now, let's get out of here before you overthink yourself into another breakdown."
Midoriya let out an embarrassed laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "R-Right."
As they started walking, Leon glanced at him out of the corner of his eye.
"Oh, by the way—"
Midoriya looked up.
"You never told me your name."
Midoriya blinked.
Then—
"O-Oh! Uh—" He straightened slightly, flustered. "I-It's Midoriya! Midoriya Izuku!"
Leon huffed a quiet chuckle. "Well, Midoriya." He stuck his hands in his pockets, his tone light but firm.
"Try not to disappoint me."
Midoriya's breath caught.
Leon didn't wait for a response. He just kept walking.
And after a brief moment—
Midoriya followed.
Because, for the first time—
He had a direction to go.