Marvel: I am the bastard son of stark (Remade)

Poseidon stood alone at the edge of the rocky shoreline near their hidden base, the cool spray of the ocean mist brushing against his face. He stared out at the crashing waves, but his mind was far from the present. Memories long buried began to resurface, unbidden.

The flashback began with a much younger Poseidon, no older than ten, standing on the outskirts of a sprawling estate hidden deep within a mountainous valley. The air was heavy with the scent of incense, and the sound of faint, rhythmic chanting echoed from the League of Assassins' temple in the distance. His mother had been sent to broker peace with the League on behalf of their clan, and as her son, Poseidon had been brought along to observe.

Despite his youth, Poseidon was already being trained in combat and diplomacy, his lineage demanding excellence from him at every turn. However, as much as he tried to focus on the mission, his curiosity often got the better of him. Wandering away from the main hall where his mother was negotiating, Poseidon found himself in the League's training grounds.

It was there he first saw Kurogiri.

The man wasn't yet the enigmatic figure of mist and shadows Poseidon would come to know. Instead, Kurogiri was a student, training alongside others under the watchful eyes of seasoned assassins. He was lean, his body marked with the scars of intense training, his movements sharp but not yet perfected. He was learning to wield his Quirk, which even then was a swirling mass of purple mist that flickered around him like an unpredictable flame.

Poseidon's interest was piqued. As Kurogiri practised, the younger boy couldn't help but be mesmerised by the way the mist moved, almost alive in its intensity.

"Who are you?" Poseidon asked, stepping forward boldly despite being much smaller than the others around.

Kurogiri paused mid-practice, his head tilting in surprise as he turned to the boy. "I could ask you the same thing, little prince," he said, his voice calm but laced with curiosity.

"I'm not a prince," Poseidon replied with a frown. "I'm Poseidon. My mother's here negotiating."

Kurogiri nodded, recognising the boy's importance. "Poseidon, then. I'm Kurogiri. I'm a student of the League." He gestured to the surrounding grounds. "And you're in a dangerous place for someone so young."

Poseidon crossed his arms, undeterred. "I'm not afraid of danger. I've been trained to fight since I could walk."

Kurogiri smirked faintly, his mist swirling around him again. "A bold claim. But can you prove it?"

Before Poseidon could answer, another voice interrupted. "Kurogiri, enough!" An elder assassin approached, his tone firm. "Return to your training. The boy isn't here to spar."

Reluctantly, Kurogiri bowed and stepped back into formation, but Poseidon lingered. Something about Kurogiri intrigued him, and he wasn't ready to leave just yet.

Over the course of the next few days, as negotiations continued, Poseidon found himself drawn to the training grounds time and time again. Each time, he watched Kurogiri practise, fascinated by the way his Quirk evolved under the harsh tutelage of the League.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the grounds were bathed in the golden glow of twilight, Kurogiri approached Poseidon. "You've been watching me a lot," he said, his tone lighter than before.

"You're interesting," Poseidon admitted. "Your mist—it's powerful. But it looks like it's hard to control."

Kurogiri chuckled. "It is. It's a part of me, but mastering it feels like taming a wild beast."

Poseidon tilted his head, considering the words. "Then don't tame it. Learn to move with it instead."

The simplicity of the advice caught Kurogiri off guard. He stared at the boy for a moment before nodding slowly. "You're wiser than you look, little Poseidon."

From that moment, a tentative camaraderie began to form between them. Though their lives were worlds apart, they shared a mutual respect for each other's strength and determination. Poseidon continued to watch Kurogiri's growth whenever their paths crossed, and Kurogiri, in turn, offered the young boy advice on his own combat training.

The flashback shifted to their final meeting before Poseidon and his mother left the League's territory.

"I won't forget you," Kurogiri said, his tone serious as he stood at the gate to bid them farewell. "One day, we may meet again. And when we do, I hope we're both stronger than we are now."

Poseidon extended a hand, and Kurogiri took it, their grip firm despite their youth.

As the memory faded, Poseidon found himself back on the shoreline, his hand unconsciously clenching into a fist. He turned away from the waves, his resolve hardening.

"I hope you're ready, Kurogiri," he murmured to himself. "Because the next time we face each other, it won't be as friends."