Chapter Text
All men are not created equal...
This is the reality I learned about society at the young age of four when diagnosed Quirkless...
Get up...
Get up...
Get up!
Izuku groaned as he forced himself upright, his palms scraping against the rough pavement. The initial blast had knocked him flat, and his head throbbed with a dull, pulsing ache. He swayed, clutching his temples as the world rang like a struck bell. Kacchan's explosions still crackled in the air, sharp, stinging pops that made his ears twitch. The familiar caramel-scorched scent of nitroglycerin sweat clung to the street like a fog, warm and suffocating.
"H-ha! You extras are six years older than me and still got blown away even when I was holding back!" Kacchan barked, voice dripping with smug triumph. The middle schoolers flinched, but Izuku knew better. He'd seen Kacchan blow up entire training dummies with less effort. That last blast had been brighter, hotter, almost beautiful in its intensity. If that was 'holding back' then Kacchan was a pro hero already.
The bullies scowled as they hauled their leader upright, a chubby boy with a fire Quirk whose clothes were now charred and smoking. They shifted into defensive stances, puffing themselves up like cornered animals. "You... You brat! You burnt my clothes! How dare you?!" the ringleader roared, his face blotchy and red, more from humiliation than heat.
Izuku winced at the volume and instinctively ducked behind Kacchan's shoulder. The blonde stood rigid, trying to ignore the tremor in his wrists as he forced himself to look unfazed. He scanned the empty street, jaw clenched. Of course no adults were around. There never were when things actually mattered.
Damn Deku!
Why'd the Quirkless idiot have to help that old hag cross the road?!
They could’ve been at Auntie Inko's by now. But no, Deku had to stop and play hero again!
"Tch. Deku! Get out of here, you idiot!" Katsuki snapped, not taking his eyes off the older kids. His wrists throbbed with a deep, ache, swelling already. That last explosion had been too big, too fast. And the extras were still standing. This was Deku's fault. Everything was always Deku's fault. If the nerd would just give up on his stupid hero fantasies and stop pitying every useless extra in the city, they wouldn’t be in this mess.
Katsuki risked a glance over his shoulder to make sure the nerd was running. Instead he found Deku staring back at him with that stubborn, wide-eyed determination Katsuki hated more than anything.
"I said go!" he hissed, pouring every ounce of intimidation he had into the glare. It bounced right off. Deku had been weathering Katsuki's temper since they were toddlers, he was practically immune. And if Katsuki was being honest with himself, he'd never been able to fully hate the scrawny idiot. But that was Deku's fault too. Somehow.
Unfortunately, he didn't notice the ringleader's meaty fist until it slammed into his gut, knocking the breath from his lungs and sending him stumbling backward into Deku. Katsuki's vision flashed white. He'd never admit it, but that punch hurt. A lot. And it was Deku's fault for distracting him.
"I didn't even use my Quirk, and you shits went tumblin', haha!" the chubby bully sneered, spitting at Katsuki's feet. Heat flared in Katsuki's chest.
Rage.
Humiliation.
The urge to blow the idiot sky-high. A cheap shot and spit? He was going to make this extra regret ever being born.
Izuku yelped as Kacchan crashed into him, knocking him onto his backside again. His heart hammered painfully against his ribs.
He should've listened. Kacchan told him to run. He should've run. Now Kacchan was hurt because of him. Again.
Izuku scrambled backward on his knees, giving Kacchan space to recover. He scanned the blonde quickly, no burns, no cuts, nothing serious. Of course not. Kacchan was strong. Stronger than him, stronger than the bullies, stronger than anyone their age. He had to be. If they were going to get out of this without bruises or stolen lunch money, Kacchan needed to be unstoppable.
Izuku didn't want to explain more bruises to his mom. Not again.
But that wasn't what he was thinking about when he saw the ringleader's fist ignite, bright orange flames licking up his arm as he wound up for another sucker punch. Izuku's body moved before his brain caught up, his hand shooting out toward the bully's wrist.
Katsuki barely registered the incoming blow. His instincts screamed, and he curled in on himself, knees to chest, arms shielding his face. He braced for the burning impact, teeth gritted, eyes squeezed shut.
But nothing hit him.
Confused, he cracked one eye open, expecting some stupid trick. The lackeys weren't moving. They weren't even smirking. They were staring, wide-eyed, stunned.
Katsuki followed their gaze.
Deku stood there, small hand clamped around the bully's wrist. The flames sputtered out instantly, snuffed like a candle in the wind. The heat that should've scorched Katsuki never came. Deku's face was frozen in shock, as if he couldn’t believe what he'd just done either.
Katsuki blinked, his brain stuttering. Then instinct kicked back in, and he lunged forward, yanking Deku away from the older boy with a sharp, panicked jerk.
Izuku didn't know what had happened.
One moment he was kneeling beside Kacchan, the next he's reaching for the ringleader's wrist, and then, as if a black hole had torn into his being, he took the fire from the older boy.
He didn't resist when Kacchan grabbed his arm, yanking him away from the scene. But the chubby boy did. In an instant, the ringleader snapped out of his daze, scowling at Izuku and leaping at him with a desperate roar.
"What did you do?! Why can't I use my Quirk?! You did something, didn’t you?!"
Katsuki grit his teeth, one last explosion erupting from his hands. Debris flew in all directions, scattering the bullies in a cloud of smoke and heat. Without a word, he dragged Izuku along, weaving through the alleyways for extra precaution.
Izuku's heart pounded, his legs barely keeping up. His hand still tingled where it had touched the ringleader's wrist, and his mind couldn't make sense of what had just happened. He'd never experienced something like this before... It was like he grew a second stomach with how empty he was feeling all of a sudden.
They didn't stop until the chaos was far behind, the streets clear, and the familiar outlines of Izuku's apartment complex came into view. Only then did Katsuki release his hold, letting Izuku stumble to a stop, chest heaving, knees shaking, still trembling from the fire he had unknowingly stolen and the storm of explosions that had carried them to safety.
Katsuki, for his part, breathed hard, the adrenaline of both anger and relief coursing through him. He glanced at Izuku for the briefest moment, eyes sharp but unreadable, before turning away to make sure no one followed.
Once he confirmed none of the bullies had caught up to them, Katsuki huffed and grabbed Izuku's arm again, dragging the dazed boy up to his apartment. "Tch. Tell auntie that I'm fine before she calls the old hag..." Katsuki grumbled, shoving Izuku to the door before stomping off. Discreetly looking back to make sure the other boy was actually alright.
"IZUKUU!" Inko cried as the apartment door opened to reveal her son.
Izuku stood in the doorway, small shoulders hunched and trembling, his uniform rumpled and smeared with dust. His green curls were matted from sweat and his cheeks streaked with drying tears. For a single, horrible second, Inko's mind filled in the worst possibilities.
Then she moved.
She rushed forward and dropped to her knees in front of him, arms wrapping tightly around his thin frame before he could even react. She held him so fiercely that Izuku let out a small, startled squeak, but she didn’t loosen her grip. If anything, her arms tightened.
Her hands trembled where they clutched the back of his shirt.
"You're okay... you're okay... you're okay..." she whispered breathlessly, the words tumbling out in a desperate mantra. Only after a few moments did she realize tears were running freely down her face. Izuku clung to her sweater quietly, still shaking from the incident, his small fingers twisting into the fabric as if grounding himself in the warmth of her presence.
Eventually Inko forced herself to breathe. She pulled back just enough to see his face, quickly wiping at her eyes with the sleeve of her cardigan. The moment her vision cleared, worry snapped back into place. Her hands immediately began moving.
She checked his shoulders first, brushing dirt from the fabric. Her fingers ran down his arms, turning them gently to look for bruises. She examined his cheeks, his neck, the back of his head.
Nothing.
No blood.
No swelling.
Only scuffed fabric, dirt, and the lingering tremble in his limbs. Relief started to loosen the tight knot in her chest. Then she reached his hands.
Inko froze.
Right in the center of both of Izuku's palms were small holes. Perfectly round. Clean-edged. Barely larger than peas.
Her stomach dropped.
"Izuku..." she said softly, her voice thin with worry. "Sweetheart, how did you get these?" Izuku sniffed loudly, rubbing his sleeve across his damp nose before shrugging helplessly. "I... I don't know..." The uncertainty in his voice made the pit in her stomach grow deeper.
She gently lifted one of his hands closer to the light, turning it slightly as she leaned in to inspect it. The skin around the strange hole wasn't torn or bleeding. It almost looked... familiar.
Behind her, Izuku stared at the back of her head.
Something strange stirring inside of him again.
A quiet tug deep inside his chest.
Earlier it had felt like something had been ripped out of him, leaving behind a hollow, echoing space. Now that same emptiness had returned, gnawing softly at the inside of his ribs, like a missing puzzle piece he couldn't find.
He shifted on his feet.
Then, without really thinking about it, his free hand slowly lifted. His small palm gently pressed against his mother's forehead. Inko blinked up at him in confusion, her brows knitting together.
"Izuku? What are you-"
She gasped.
Something pulled.
Not on her body.
Not on her skin.
But on something deeper.
It felt like invisible fingers had slipped beneath her ribs and tugged lightly at something inside her chest. Her breath caught in her throat.
"Izuku...?"
Meanwhile, Izuku's expression had gone eerily focused. Sweat beaded along his brow as his fingers curled slightly against her skin. His breathing slowed, the world around him fading into distant noise as he concentrated on the unfamiliar sensation blooming inside him. It felt like standing in a dark room and reaching out blindly.
Searching.....
Searching....
Searching...
Then he felt it.
A small spark.
Warm.
Alive.
Without hesitation, his hand tightened.
He grabbed it.
The moment he did, the hollow space inside his chest filled. The emptiness that had been gnawing at him vanished instantly, replaced by a strange, quiet satisfaction he didn't understand.
Izuku jerked his hand away as if burned. The pressure in his head disappeared just as quickly as it had arrived. Inko blinked in confusion, bringing her hand to her forehead and rubbing it lightly.
"I... what was that?" she murmured.
Izuku didn't answer. He was staring at his palms. Something strange was happening.
Later that night, after Inko tucked Izuku into bed, she found herself sitting alone in the living room. The apartment was quiet now, save for the distant hum of traffic outside and the faint creak of the building settling for the night. Her phone rested in her hands, the screen glowed softly, illuminating the contact she had already pulled up.
Hisashi.
Her thumb hovered over the call button, unmoving. Her mind wouldn't slow down. Every thought circled back to the same thing...
The small holes in Izuku's palms.
Perhaps he wasn't Quirkless after all. Maybe the doctors had been wrong. Maybe he had simply been a late bloomer.
But if that were true...
What kind of Quirk did he have?
Her thoughts drifted back years, to conversations she had once had with Hisashi when they were just settling into a relationship. He had similar holes in the center of his palms. He had explained them with a sheepish smile, telling her he couldn't produce fire for his Dragon Breath on his own. He had to absorb it first. Through those holes.
But that didn't explain the strange tug she had felt earlier, when Izuku had pressed his palm against her forehead. The memory made her frown. It hadn't hurt. But something about it had felt... wrong.
Like something inside her had shifted.
Maybe Izuku needed body heat to ignite flames? Or maybe his Quirk worked like hers. Maybe-
Inko let out a frustrated sigh, bouncing her leg anxiously as her thoughts spiraled.
Thud
Her phone slipped from her hands and clattered against the floor.
"Ah-!" she muttered under her breath.
Still lost in thought, she held out her hand and instinctively reached for it with her Quirk, the way she had done a thousand times before. The familiar motion came automatically, her fingers curled slightly as she focused on the phone.
Nothing happened.
Inko blinked.
She tried again, concentrating harder this time, picturing the small device floating toward her like it always did.
Still nothing.
A faint crease formed between her brows, a small frown tugging at her lips.
"That's strange..."
Maybe she hadn't focused properly. She inhaled slowly and tried again, this time putting her full attention into the pull she had known all her life. The invisible thread that always connected her to small objects nearby. The thread that let her draw things to her.
Except now...
There was nothing there.
No tug.
No faint pressure behind her eyes. Just a strange, hollow absence. Inko's stomach twisted, her breathing slowed as a cold realization crept up her spine. Carefully, she leaned forward and reached her hand out again.
"Come on..." she murmured softly.
Nothing moved.
The phone remained exactly where it had fallen. And deep inside her chest, where the quiet familiarity of her Quirk had always lived, something felt terribly empty.
Inko stared at the device on the floor. Then slowly, she lowered her hand.
For the first time since she was four years old...
She couldn't feel her Quirk at all.
The next day, Izuku found himself sitting in a very familiar doctor's office. The antiseptic smell clung to the air, and the quiet hum of fluorescent lights buzzed faintly overhead. Izuku sat on a chair, legs swinging slightly as he fiddled nervously with an old All Might action figure he had brought along.
Next to him, Inko held him and his arm close with a firm yet gentle grip, as if trying to reassure herself that he was fine. Her eyes never left Dr. 'Tsubasa'. The doctor sat behind his desk, carefully reviewing Izuku's files. Every so often his gaze drifted from the paperwork to Izuku himself, lingering on the boy's foot, then the strange holes in the center of his palms, before returning to the documents again with a thoughtful hum.
The silence stretched longer and longer.
Finally, Inko couldn't take it anymore.
"W-well?" she blurted anxiously. "Is there anything wrong with him? Is my baby going to be okay?" Her grip tightened around Izuku's arm.
Dr. 'Tsubasa' sighed softly and placed the files down, leaning back in his chair. "No, your son is perfectly healthy. Apart from a few minor scrapes and bruises." He said calmly, head tilting slightly. "Might I ask how he received those?" Inko felt Izuku tense beside her. She glanced down at him with a small frown and moved her hand to rub his back soothingly.
"He... he won't talk about it," she admitted quietly. "But I know it's bullies at school. He gets picked on a lot for being Quirkless. Yesterday he came home covered in dust and scrapes. He said he and Katsuki, his only friend, were targeted by some middle schoolers on their way home..." Her voice wavered and tears pricked at the corners of her eyes.
Izuku glanced up at her guiltily, his own eyes beginning to water at the sight of his mother struggling to keep herself together. "I'm sorry, Momma..." he murmured softly. He buried his face against her side, clutching tightly to the fabric of her cardigan. Inko swallowed hard, wrapping an arm around him in a small side hug and pulling him closer. It took every ounce of strength she had not to break down in front of him.
Dr. 'Tsubasa' cleared his throat awkwardly and turned slightly in his chair, retrieving a set of x-rays from the desk. "Well," he began, adjusting his glasses, "we confirmed that Izuku is still missing the extra toe joint commonly found in Quirked individuals."
Inko's shoulders drooped slightly.
"But," the doctor continued, holding up a finger, "we also ran a blood test." He tapped a page in the file.
“And the results show active Quirk DNA strands.”
Inko blinked in surprise.
"I can’t say what his Quirk actually is yet," Dr. 'Tsubasa' admitted thoughtfully, "but those holes in his palms appear to be a mutation related to it." He glanced toward Izuku again. "You mentioned that he thought he... took the flame from the boy who was bullying him? That might suggest he requires an external source of heat to activate his Quirk."
Inko hesitated, thinking over the Doctor's words before speaking up. "There's... something else..." she said slowly.
Dr. 'Tsubasa' looked up.
"When Izuku touched my forehead yesterday, I felt something strange. Like something was... pulled out of me." She continued thoughtfully.
The doctor straightened slightly.
"I thought it was because he could also use body heat to conjure a flame like his father, but after that... I couldn’t use my Quirk."
That made him perk up immediately.
"You couldn't?" he asked skeptically, eyeing the two with newfound curiosity. Inko nodded, looking down at her hands in contemplation. "I tried multiple times. I couldn't pull anything toward me at all." She admitted, looking up at the doctor hopefully.
Dr. 'Tsubasa' hummed before gesturing toward the phone resting on his desk. "Would you mind demonstrating?" Inko nodded hesitantly. She held out her hand toward the phone and focused the way she always had when using her Quirk.
Her fingers curled slightly.
Nothing happened.
She tried again.
Still nothing.
A faint crease formed between the doctor's brows, but after a moment he leaned back in his chair with a dismissive hum. "Most likely shock," he said with a small wave of his hand. "You experienced a frightening event yesterday, and stress can interfere with Quirk activation."
Inko looked uncertain.
"I... suppose that makes sense..."
Dr. 'Tsubasa' smiled pleasantly.
"In any case," he said, closing the file, "you should both be relieved. Izuku's Quirk has finally manifested." He glanced down at Izuku with interest. "Late bloomers are rare, but not unheard of."
Dr. Garaki sat alone in his office long after the Midoriyas had left. The room felt unusually quiet now, the soft ticking of a wall clock filling the silence as he stared down at the file spread across his desk. Izuku Midoriya's medical records lay open beneath his trembling hands, the newest test results neatly clipped to the top.
He read them again. And again. The conclusion refused to change. Three years ago, when the boy had first sat in this very office clutching an All Might figurine, Garaki had been absolutely certain.
Quirkless.
The missing toe joint had confirmed it. The boy lacked the mutation that accompanied Quirked individuals. A clean, unaltered genome. Which made perfect sense. After all, his Lord had walked the earth since the dawn of Quirks themselves. If anything, the boy should have inherited the strongest unmutated genetics possible.
And yet...
Garaki's gaze drifted toward the small notes he had scribbled beside the new test results.
Active Quirk DNA.
Mutation in the palms.
Ability possibly involving external energy absorption.
His stomach twisted.
That was not the alarming part.
The alarming part was the implication.
If the boy truly possessed a Quirk... and if the holes in his palms functioned the way Garaki suspected...
Then Izuku Midoriya might have inherited something far more significant than anyone had realized.
Garaki swallowed nervously and reached for the phone. There was only one person he could inform. He dialed the number carefully. The phone rang.
And rang.
Each second stretched longer than the last.
Brring... Brring... Brring...
Garaki wiped a bead of sweat from his temple, already bracing himself for the reprimand that might follow.
Then-
Click.
The ringing stopped.
A voice came through the receiver. Deep. Calm. Heavy with authority.
"Doctor. Should I have been expecting this call?"
Garaki nearly dropped the phone.
"N-no! Ah-ahm... my deepest apologies, my Lord," he stammered quickly, bowing instinctively even though the man could not see him. "I have received... concerning information regarding your son."
There was a brief pause on the other end.
Then a quiet hum.
"Hmm.”
The voice remained smooth, thoughtful.
"I assume you are referring to Izuku. You never refer to Tomura as anything but 'the young Lord'."
Garaki swallowed.
"Y-yes, my Lord. It's Izuku."
He wrung his hands together anxiously.
"He and Inko have just left my office and... it appears my previous diagnosis may have been... incorrect."
Silence filled the line.
Then a single word.
"Incorrect?"
The faintest edge of irritation crept into the tone.
Garaki hurried to explain.
"H-his Quirk, my Lord! The boy still lacks the additional toe joint associated with Quirk mutations. Yet our tests clearly show active Quirk DNA strands!"
His voice dropped to a whisper.
"And the manifestation appears to involve absorption through the palms..."
Another pause followed.
This one much longer.
On the other end of the line, far away from the small clinic, the man known to the underworld as All For One sat in quiet contemplation.
Izuku Midoriya.
His son.
For years, the boy had been little more than a distant curiosity. A child born outside his world, left to live a mundane life while greater plans unfolded elsewhere.
Quirkless.
Harmless.
Irrelevant.
And now the doctor was telling him the boy had manifested a Quirk. One that sounded suspiciously familiar.
All For One leaned back slowly in his chair.
Interesting. Very interesting.
Perhaps the doctor's earlier conclusion had been premature. A faint chuckle escaped him. The sound made Garaki freeze.
"Doctor."
Garaki stiffened immediately.
"Y-yes, my Lord?"
There was no anger in the man's voice now.
Only quiet amusement.
"It seems you will need to be more thorough with your examinations in the future."
Garaki bowed deeply, even though he was alone.
"O-of course, my Lord! My sincerest apologies-"
But the line had already gone dead.
The call ended.
Garaki slowly lowered the phone, sweat dampening the collar of his coat.
Somewhere far away, his Lord was thinking.
And that thought alone made the doctor uneasy.
Once again, Inko sat alone in her living room in the dead of night. The silence pressed in around her, heavy and suffocating. She stared at her phone resting on the coffee table as though it might leap into her hand on its own. She'd spent the entire day trying to activate her Quirk, trying to feel something, ever since the doctor's appointment. She tried calming herself, tried playing hero rescue with Izuku, who had been practically glowing with joy after manifesting his Quirk...
But she still couldn't feel it. Not even a flicker. Not that she knew what it was supposed to feel like in the first place.
She told herself the emptiness was just stress. Overwhelm. Shock. She hadn't had tea with Mitsuki in weeks, maybe a playdate between Izuku and Katsuki would help distract her. Something normal. Something grounding.
Finally giving up on trying to pull the phone toward her with a Quirk she wasn't even sure she had anymore, Inko picked it up the old-fashioned way. Her thumb hovered over her starred contacts. She paused at the contact labeled 'Hisashi'.
She hesitated. She'd meant to call him last night, but instead she'd booked the doctor's appointment. She'd been avoiding this conversation for years. Avoiding him. But tonight, avoidance felt impossible.
Before she could talk herself out of it, she pressed the call button.
The phone rang. And with each ring, a wave of emotions crashed over her. Resentment. Fear. Longing. Anger. Guilt. She hadn't seen or heard from Hisashi since Izuku was three. He still sent money every month, more than enough to live comfortably. As if that could replace a father. As if that could replace a husband.
She was seconds from hanging up when the call connected.
"Inko. It's been a while, hasn't it? I hope everything is alright..."
There it was. That sickly-sweet voice she'd once clung to like a lifeline. Now it only made her stomach twist. She'd learned better. She knew the concern was fake, polished, practiced, hollow.
"No. Don't start with that," Inko said, her voice firmer than she felt. "Not when you aren't planning on showing your face to Izuku any time soon."
A low chuckle hummed through the speaker, smooth and unsettling. It crawled down her spine like cold fingers.
"I suppose I deserve that. Since you want to skip pleasantries, I'll ask directly. Why have you called?"
His tone shifted. Subtle. Controlled. But Inko heard the edge beneath it. She always had.
She swallowed. "I-it's about Izuku. He's finally gotten his Quirk, but... it's strange. I know you've always hidden things from me, and I just-"
She stopped. Her throat tightened. She suddenly realized she didn't want to tell him. Not yet. Not until she understood what was happening. Not until she knew she could trust him.
"You just?" 'Hisashi' said slowly, expectantly.
She froze. The question wasn't loud, but it was sharp, too sharp. Like he already knew she was lying. Like he expected it.
"Nothing," she said quickly. Too quickly.
"Inko."
Her grip tightened around the phone. "I said it's nothing."
"You're lying."
The words weren't angry. They were calm. Certain. And that certainty made her chest constrict.
"You always do this," she whispered, heat rising behind her eyes. "You disappear for years, you send money like that makes everything fine, and then you expect me to just-just tell you things? To trust you?"
Silence. Heavy. Expectant.
"Inko," he said again, quieter this time, "tell me what happened."
she exhaled shakily, her resolve finally cracking, . "Fine. Izuku... yesterday he was being bullied and one of the boys tried to hit Katsuki with his Quirk. He said he stopped a fire Quirk with his bare hand. The flames just went out. Like they never existed. And he didn't even know how he did it. Only saying that he took the fire."
Another long silence. But this one felt different. Not surprised. Not confused.
Calculated.
"I see."
Her heart dropped. "Hisashi. What do you mean, you see? Do you know something? Did you-did you lie to me about your Quirk??"
She waited for denial. For excuses. For anything.
Instead, 'Hisashi's' voice came back low and controlled.
"Inko. Listen to me very carefully. Do not tell anyone else about Izuku's Quirk. Not Mitsuki. Not the school. Not anyone. Don't even change his Quirk registration."
Her breath hitched. "Why? Hisashi. What's going on?"
"I'll explain when I arrive."
"Arrive?" she echoed. "You're coming here?"
"In a few days."
Her pulse pounded in her ears. "Hisashi-"
"Until then," he interrupted, "say nothing. Not a word. Do you understand?"
Inko stared into the darkened living room, her hand trembling around the phone.
"Yes..."
"Good."
The line went dead.
Izuku woke up as much as he wanted to on a Sunday, tossing and turning beneath his blankets as he tried to ignore the stubborn sunlight creeping through the thin curtains. He squeezed his eyes shut and buried his face deeper into his pillow, determined to steal just a few more minutes of sleep.
The warmth on his cheeks refused to cooperate.
It soaked through the blanket and tickled across his nose until his face scrunched in protest. After a few more stubborn minutes of shifting and groaning into the mattress, Izuku finally huffed dramatically and pushed himself upright.
His eyes slowly adjusted to the brightness.
Then to the room.
All Might's familiar grin beamed down at him from nearly every corner. Posters layered the walls, some slightly crooked from years of being taken down and replaced. Action figures lined his shelves mid-punch or mid-rescue. Stickers clung to notebooks stacked beside his bed. Usually that smile tugged at something bittersweet inside his chest.
It was a reminder of the dream he clung to even when teachers, classmates, and his mother had gently told him it was time to let go.
But today...
Today, that smile felt different.
Today, All Might's words, 'Anyone can be a hero!', didn't feel like distant encouragement meant for someone stronger.
They felt like they were meant for him.
Izuku had a Quirk.
The thought still made his chest flutter.
He didn't know what it did. He didn't know how to use it. He didn't even know if it would be useful for heroics at all. But it was real. It was his. And for the first time in his life, the dream that filled every notebook page and every late-night thought didn't feel impossible anymore. It felt reachable.
Izuku grabbed his All Might plush and hugged it tightly against his chest, grinning so wide his cheeks began to ache.
Then the smell of breakfast drifted under his door. Warm miso. Eggs sizzling in the pan. The faint sweetness of freshly steamed rice.
His stomach growled loudly in response.
Izuku scrambled out of bed, nearly tripping over his All Might slippers as he rushed into the hallway. "Momma!" he called, skidding into the kitchen. Inko turned from the stove, humming softly along to the radio playing on the counter. She jumped slightly at his sudden entrance before her expression softened into a smile.
It was warm.
Comforting.
But there was a faint nervous edge to it that Izuku didn't notice.
"Oh! Izuku... good morning, baby." Her eyes drifted down his outfit and her smile widened at the sight of the All Might onesie he'd clearly chosen in a rush. "Could you help Momma set the table?"
Izuku puffed out his chest proudly. "Yes! Why?" he announced dramatically, raising a fist in the air as he tried his best All Might impression. "Because I am here!"
Inko laughed softly. The sound was gentle and fond, filling the little kitchen. "Yes, you are." she said warmly.
Izuku darted around the kitchen grabbing plates and chopsticks with far more enthusiasm than coordination. A plate nearly clattered to the floor before he caught it, and he proudly placed everything on the table like a hero completing an important mission.
Inko served breakfast, and they sat down together.
Just the two of them.
Like always.
They talked while they ate. Mostly about heroes. Mostly about All Might.
Izuku excitedly repeated moments from last night's hero broadcasts while Inko listened with soft patience, nodding along as she sipped her tea. Then she casually mentioned something that nearly made him leap out of his chair. They'd be visiting the Bakugous later.
"A playdate with Kacchan?"
"Yep," she said with a smile, brushing a stray curl from his forehead. "I already talked to Auntie Mitsuki this morning."
Izuku practically vibrated with excitement for the rest of breakfast.
The morning blurred together after that.
All Might rescues on TV.
All Might villain captures.
All Might interviews.
Izuku bounced around the living room beside his mother, reenacting scenes with dramatic flair while clutching his plush like a prop. Inko watched him with a soft, aching smile. Every now and then, though, her gaze drifted toward her phone on the table. As if she were thinking about calling someone. Or waiting for a call that never came.
The apartment felt warm...
Peaceful...
Too peaceful...
So peaceful that neither of them noticed the faint metallic groan coming from the apartment door...
Or the quiet strain of the lock twisting under pressure...
All Might's booming voice from the television drowned everything out...
He was right in the middle of one of his speeches.
"Anyone can be a hero!"
...
The front door slammed open with a violent crack.
Inko screamed.
Her arms moved instantly, pulling Izuku behind her as a masked figure forced their way into the apartment.
Tall. Broad. Their presence swallowed the small living room like a shadow blocking the sun.
Izuku froze.
His breath caught painfully in his throat.
"M-Momma?"
Inko's hand tightened around his wrist.
"Izuku," she whispered, her voice trembling but fierce, "go to Auntie Mitsuki's. Now."
"But-"
"Run!" she shouted, louder than he had ever heard her in his life.
The word cracked with fear.
Izuku stumbled backward as tears blurred his vision.
The villain lunged forward.
And Inko moved.
She didn't hesitate.
She didn't think.
She simply stepped between them and her son.
Izuku didn't see the details.
He didn't see the weapon.
He didn't see the strike.
He didn't see the blood covering him.
He only saw his mother shield him with her body and turn back toward him with wide, desperate eyes.
"Izuku, run!"
So he ran.
He ran harder than he ever had in his life.
His small feet pounded against the hallway floor as he fled the apartment, his breath breaking into panicked gasps.
He burst out of the apartment, down the stairs, and across the street, tears blurring everything.
He didn't stop.
Not until he reached the familiar door of Auntie Mitsuki's house.
Izuku slammed his fists against it, sobbing so hard he could barely breathe.
"A-Auntie Mitsuki!" he cried, voice cracking. "Auntie Mitsuki! Please, please open!"
He pounded harder, his tiny fists aching.
"Auntie! Auntie!"
The door flew open.
Mitsuki stared down at him, eyes widening at the sight of his blood-stained face and shaking body.
"Izuku?"
He collapsed into her.
"M-Momma! Villains! Momma!"
Mitsuki's expression hardened instantly. She pulled him close and shouted into the house for Masaru to call the police.
Izuku clung desperately to her shirt, shaking violently.
Only minutes ago the morning had felt bright and safe.
Now that peace had shattered beyond repair.
Mitsuki watched the two police officers step off the porch and walk down the footpath, their quiet conversation fading beneath the hum of the afternoon. The front gate clicked shut behind them. She stood in the doorway for a moment longer than necessary, arms crossed tightly over her chest, her brow furrowed in a deep frown.
She still couldn't believe it.
Inko... dead.
The thought refused to settle properly in her mind, like something too absurd to take root. Inko had been part of her life for decades. They had grown up together, laughed together, complained about their husbands together. Inko had been gentle where Mitsuki was sharp, soft where Mitsuki was loud. They balanced each other out in a way that had always felt natural.
And now she was gone.
Just like that.
It had only been yesterday morning when Inko called her. Mitsuki could still hear the slight tension in her friend's voice over the phone. She'd asked if they could come over for a visit. Said Izuku had been missing Katsuki lately and thought a playdate would cheer him up. Mitsuki had believed that part easily enough. Izuku adored Katsuki.
But she also knew Inko well enough to recognize when something was wrong. She'd pressed her gently on the phone, trying to coax the truth out of her. At first Inko dodged the questions. Gave vague answers. Tried to brush it off. Eventually she'd sighed and admitted the real reason for the call.
'Hisashi' was returning to Japan.
That alone had made Mitsuki's stomach twist unpleasantly. According to Inko, he wanted to meet and 'talk about Izuku'. Which meant exactly what it sounded like. Custody. Mitsuki's lip curled at the thought.
In her opinion, the man didn't deserve the dirt under Izuku's shoes.
She'd never met Hisashi in person, but she'd seen the photographs Inko kept tucked away in old albums. Even from pictures Mitsuki had never liked him. Something about the man rubbed her the wrong way.
Too polished.
Too put together.
Too... convenient.
Men like that always landed on their feet. And Mitsuki knew damn well that if the bastard dragged Inko into court, the system would probably hand him everything he asked for with a nice, neat bow on top.
A stable job abroad.
A father returning to take responsibility.
Judges loved that kind of story.
Her jaw tightened. That led to the question she couldn't shake. Why now?
Hisashi had been absent for nearly Izuku's entire life. Too busy 'working abroad' to bother visiting. Too busy to attend birthdays. Too busy to call more than once every few months. He'd barely even been present for the first three years. Then suddenly, after four years of silence, he wanted to come back.
Right after Izuku got a Quirk.
Right after Inko died.
The timing was far too convenient.
Mitsuki snorted under her breath. If that man thought he could stroll back into Japan and snatch Izuku away like some prize after ignoring the kid for a decade, he had another thing coming. She'd burn the courts to the ground before she let that happen.
With a long exhale, Mitsuki pushed herself away from the doorframe and went back into the house.
Masaru sat on the couch with the boys, doing his best to keep the atmosphere calm. Izuku had stayed the night. The television played softly in the background, an old recording of an All Might broadcast. The Symbol of Peace filled the screen, mid-battle against some towering villain.
Katsuki sat beside Izuku, legs stretched out in front of him. At first glance he looked like his usual self, arms crossed, scowl firmly in place, posture slouched with casual arrogance. But Mitsuki knew her son. He was wound tighter than a spring. Izuku sat beside him in silence, wrapped in a red All Might hoodie that hung a little too large on his small frame.
Mitsuki immediately recognized it. It had belonged to Katsuki. His favorite one, actually. The brat had tried to act like it was no big deal earlier.
"Tch. I outgrew it," he'd muttered, shoving the hoodie into Izuku's hands. "I don't need it anyway, nerd." Which was complete bullshit. Mitsuki knew for a fact Katsuki still wore that hoodie around the house.
Mitsuki watched the two quietly, her expression softening for just a moment as Katsuki cared for Izuku in his own way.
Then the doubt crept back in. Her gaze drifted toward Masaru, who noticed the tension in her face and stood up, walking over to her.
"You're thinking about it again," he murmured gently. Mitsuki scoffed. "Of course I am." She glanced back toward the boys.
"A villain breaks into Inko's apartment in the middle of the morning," she muttered under her breath. "No robbery. No demands. Just violence." Masaru frowned slightly as Mitsuki’s eyes narrowed." And the day after Hisashi decides to come back to Japan."
Masaru hesitated. "You think it's connected?"
Mitsuki's jaw tightened.
"I think the timing stinks." Her gaze hardened as she looked back toward Izuku.
"And if that bastard thinks he's getting anywhere near that kid..." Her voice dropped low and dangerous. "He's gonna have to go through me first."