Chapter Text
Before the voice can respond, the door opens and someone walks in. I stare wide-eyed at the blue-haired man, whose face is covered by a hand. When he pulls it away, I catch a glimpse of the scars and the dry, cracked skin beneath. I shake myself out of staring and look toward the doctor.
I can’t quite tell, but the doctor curls his lip and side-eyes the newcomer. He definitely doesn’t like him. I step partly behind the doctor just as the man notices us.
I frown as the man scratches his neck, mumbling. The doctor reaches for me, but I slip past him. I barely register his attempt to stop me; my curiosity is already winning out over my anxiety. I move closer to the man and look at the red marks on his neck, where the skin has started to bleed.
“Does that hurt?” Before I can think better of it, I’m beside him, reaching to move his hand away from his neck.
I touch the skin at his neck and swipe at the blood with my thumb. His hand clamps around my wrist. I hear the doctor shout, but I’m staring at my own skin as it starts to disintegrate. I wrench myself free and clutch my wrist to my chest. The damage begins to recede almost as soon as I pull away.
“Ow,” I say, pouting as I inspect the damage. It hurts, but it’s only a little worse than one of Kacchan’s explosions.
I shake my wrist once, then take a closer look. I get so absorbed in analyzing the man’s Quirk that I don’t realize I’ve started mumbling.
“It’s obviously a disintegration-type Quirk. Five-point contact? If I touch it here, then—” Pain flares through my wrist. “Ow. Okay, that still hurts, but it’s going away. Is that part of his Quirk? Or mine? Wait…” I stop mid-thought when the last thing I said finally sinks in.
I turn to the doctor with a small frown.
“Do I have a Quirk? Is that why I’m alive?” I look at the doctor, dumbfounded. He nods.
All I can think is that, if I’d killed myself sooner, I wouldn’t have had to deal with all that discrimination.
Then another question pushes its way in: what is my Quirk? I drift over to a nearby booth and sit down, pulling out the notepad I took from the lab and a pen. I start muttering theories about my Quirk. I should be hurt, and I should be paying attention to the man in front of me, but my thoughts keep circling back to what my Quirk can do.
I don’t care. More and more theories fill the notepad until someone slides into the booth across from me. I look up and see the man from earlier.
I put away the notepad and stare at the person.
“So, do I get a name?” he asks. I rub the back of my neck sheepishly.
“Yeah, sorry. I shouldn’t have touched you like that.” I duck my head, feeling my cheeks warm.
“Oh—and my name’s Izuku!” I add with a chuckle, finally remembering to answer his question. I tilt my head and lower my hand from my neck.
“And what should I call you?” I ask. The man growls, but I give him an uncertain smile. I relax a little when he huffs and stops.
“...Call me Shigaraki, nerd.” I smile and hold out my hand to shake.
“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Shigaraki.” He takes my hand and shakes it with four fingers.
I tilt my head when I notice he didn’t use all five fingers, then pull my hand away before it gets weird. I’m about to ask more questions about his Quirk when the doctor clears his throat and motions for me to follow. I get up with a smile, then turn to wave at Shigaraki before I leave.
This time, I don’t hesitate before stepping through the portal.
The portal opens into a hallway I recognize. We’re back in the lab. I look around as the doctor walks ahead of me. It still smells like antiseptic, but there’s something else under it. I don’t know what it is. The doctor tells me to keep up and opens another door.
I stop when I see the room. There are three Nomus inside. One is strapped to a table, with wires attached to its head and chest. Another is standing behind a glass wall. The last one is sitting in a metal chair with its head down.
“What are you doing to them?” I ask.
“Testing their responses,” the doctor says. He steps beside the table and checks the monitor. “We need to know what their bodies can handle.”
He presses a button. A low beep comes from the machine, and the Nomu’s hand twitches. Its fingers curl, then its arm jerks against the straps. I jump back. The doctor writes something on his clipboard and turns a dial.
“Again,” he says.
“Does it hurt?” I ask.
The doctor doesn’t answer. He presses the button again. The Nomu jerks, harder this time, and the monitor beeps faster. I look at its face. Its eyes are closed, but its mouth is open like it’s trying to breathe. I look away. Earlier, I was interested when the doctor explained Nomus. Watching one strapped to a table is different. I still want to know more, but I don’t like how much I’m enjoying this.
The doctor adjusts another setting. “This one has more than one Quirk. We’re checking whether it can use them without exploding.”
I want to ask how the Nomus are made. I want to ask if they used to be people. I don’t ask. I feel like I already know the answer anyway. The doctor keeps talking about the results, like he doesn’t hear the machine.
The Nomu’s fingers move again. This time, it turns its head toward me.
I freeze. The doctor looks at the screen, then at me. “That’s new.”
I don’t know if I should be scared or curious. The Nomu keeps looking at me. I take one step back, and the doctor reaches for the controls.
The doctor flips a switch on the control panel. The Nomu stops moving, but it keeps looking at me. I step to the side. Its head turns with me. I stop, and it stops too.
“Is it reacting to me?” I ask.
“I don’t know yet.” He writes something on the clipboard. “Stay there.”
I look at the screen. A line moves every time the Nomu turns its head. The doctor asks me to step back. I do. The line drops. He tells me to walk closer again, and the line rises.
“It’s reacting to me,” I say.
“Maybe.” He adjusts the machine and watches the monitor. “We need to repeat it before we can be sure.”
He moves to the Nomu behind the glass and speaks into a microphone. “Raise your right arm.”
The Nomu doesn’t move. The doctor presses a button. Its arm lifts a little, then drops. He writes something down and tries again. This time, he says the command before pressing the button. Nothing happens until the signal.
“So it only moves when you press that?” I ask.
“For now.” The doctor checks the settings. “We’re testing whether the Nomus can follow instructions, or if they only respond to the signal.”
I look at the one on the table. “Does it know what’s happening?”
The doctor takes a moment to answer. “We don’t know.”
I look back at the Nomu on the table. The wires are still attached to it. The doctor reaches up and removes one, but the Nomu’s head turns back toward me. The machine’s beeping speeds up again.
The doctor looks at the screen. “It started again.”
I take a step back. “Is it because of me?”
“Possibly.”
I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to hurt it. I don’t want it to hurt me either. The doctor turns toward me. “We should test your Quirk next.”
I look at my wrist. “What if I can’t control it?”
“Then we’ll start slowly.”
I still don’t know what to say. The Nomu keeps looking at me, and I don’t move. I don’t want to find out what will happen if I do.