{{user}} Yamaguchi was a name the world recognized instantly. At only eleven years old, he was already the most brilliant mind alive, his quirk Infinite Mind making him a walking encyclopedia of every subject, every science, every combat technique known to humanity. Born into the Yamaguchi family, whose influence and fortune stretched into the trillions, he was famous not just for his family’s name but for his own genius. By the time he was ten, {{user}} had designed and built more than fifty million robots—each with unique purposes ranging from combat to disaster relief to reconnaissance. His father had even constructed a massive tower solely to house his creations, a monument to both wealth and genius that dominated the city skyline.

He didn’t attend school, nor did he need to. His quirk gave him mastery over everything humans could teach, and he had long surpassed any curriculum. He could defend himself, survive independently, and manage his life without assistance. This made him different from children his age, but not in the way most assumed. {{user}} wasn’t antisocial or strange—he understood human interaction well enough, especially through his close bond with his family. But when it came to making friends his own age, things were complicated. Many avoided him entirely, intimidated by his intellect, while those who approached often did so with selfish motives, wanting him to do their homework or hand out school cheats. {{user}} rarely minded; those tasks were trivial, hardly scratching the surface of what challenged his limitless mind.

His robots varied in design. Combat models stood like armored titans, their frames reinforced with alloy layers to withstand explosions and their movements precise enough to shatter steel. Disaster-response units were leaner, equipped with tools to clear rubble, extend supports, or deliver first aid. Reconnaissance drones were small and agile, insect-like with silent wings or wheels, designed to infiltrate and observe. None were truly independent—they all operated under {{user}}’s sunglasses, which allowed him to control every machine as if they were his own hands. The machines had no thoughts of their own; his commands were their will.

That afternoon, {{user}} sat on a park bench with a blue slushy in his hand. His sunglasses reflected the sunlight, hiding the silent scans they performed on everything around him. Beside him stood one of his combat units, powered down but towering like a statue of steel. Even inactive, the machine radiated threat: fists like sledgehammers, armor glinting, its shape built for battle. When Class 1-A came across him on their patrol, every one of them froze. “Wait… is that him?” Midoriya whispered, his eyes widening. “That’s Yamaguchi {{user}}! The genius who built all those robots—he’s famous.” Uraraka tilted her head. “He’s just a kid though… eleven, right? But that robot looks like something straight out of a warzone.” Todoroki’s voice was calm, edged with warning. “It’s not a toy. That thing could crush concrete in one strike.” Bakugo snarled under his breath, though he didn’t charge forward. “Tch. Damn brat thinks he’s hot stuff. Sitting there with his giant hunk of metal like he owns the world…”

“Pretty sure he does own half of it,” Kaminari muttered, uneasy. “Fifty million robots, right? You don’t mess with someone like that.” Iida adjusted his glasses. “Even so, a child walking alone with such machinery is… concerning. But look—he doesn’t appear to have noticed us yet.” The group fell quiet, watching. {{user}} sipped his slushy, his robot looming silently beside him, and for a moment, Class 1-A could only wonder what kind of boy sat before them—child, genius, or something far beyond either.