Chapter Text
By governmental definitions, Sparks were not technically Quirks. Blah blah ‘brain chemistry’ bluh ‘lack of genetic markers’ blabidly blah. In technicality, it was more of a wide scale mutation that seemed more like a mental disorder. Just, as various shifty government officers said, completely nonreplicable.
The public didn't actually care what the government labeled the Sparks, giving the individuals the title of ‘unholy maniacs dear gods in heaven get it away’.
This title was very very apt, even for those on the Hero side.
At one years old, Inko walked in on her son Izuku taking apart the toaster and peering at its insides with a far too intelligent gleam in his eyes. “Ah! Izuku, be careful!” She said, swooping in to lift him away. Izuku looked up at her and grinned, hall toddler cuteness and Inko felt herself melt.
She also made a note to buy a new toaster.
Funnily enough though, the toaster still worked. Inko had nearly had a heart attack when she absent mindedly put a piece of bread in and a laser shot out, burning it to a crisp.
Izuku seemed unperturbed. “Saw on T.V. Mama!” He chirped happily. Izumi hummed, examine the toast. Well, at least she liked it burnt. Hopefully there weren't going to be anymore surprises.
A week later, Inko revised her decision. “Izuku-kun, work on these instead.” She said, placing a few mechanical toys in front of her child. Izuku glanced away from his newest toy, the can opener. His eyes lit up.
Inko cooed at the sight. She knew it was a good idea to visit that sale, they had a few toys for babies with more mechanical Quirks. Perfectly safe and Izuku looked so happy.
Izuku was diagnosed Quirkless with the words of a patient and kind Doctor. Inko nodded along to his words, not trusting herself to say anything more. Her child was her child, even Quirkless. But it was almost a relief when they were released from the sterile office.
She tugged an unresisting Izuku closer when they stepped out, booping him on the nose so he looked up to her. There was a gleam of unshed tears in his eyes. “Don't cry, Izuku-kun. You can still be a hero. Just maybe a special one.” Her baby was such a genius after all.
That too intelligent gleam returned to Izuku’s eyes. “Yeah! I could build a super suit.” The gleam turned into something bordering on unholy. “Or a robot army.”
Inko giggled, patting her son on the head. Such spirit! He really did get it from his father. “No robot armies till highschool dear.”
“Buuuut Mom! For science!” Nearby, a doctor walking out of the building twitched, automatically speeding up.
“Safety first my dear.” Inko scolded. “Mama doesn't want you hurting yourself, and you don't want Mama sad, do you?”
Izuku shook his head fervently. “Never ever!” Mom wasn't allowed to be sad ever because of him. He paused, new ideas spinning into being. Hm, mutation Quirks were because of DNA, right? That had possibilities for science. “Mom, can we go to the bookstore?”
“Of course.” Inko said. Her son, ever the studious one.
Izuku had always made stellar grades even with his haphazard homework. His science teachers, however, seemed to run between ‘proud’ and ‘never let him in a lab again’.
“He has no concept of lab safety!” One ranted. Izumi nodded, not quite listening. “If he had combined those chemicals, he would have built a bomb!” She hummed, unconcerned.
“I'm sure Izuku knew what he was doing.” She said, glancing to the side. Izuku was already hard at work on something that was beginning to look like a drone. If a drone came outfitted with lasers.
Izuku had a thing with lasers.
“Well, what do you call this?” The teacher yelled, gesturing at Izuku’s latest assignment. Scribbled in the margins were various complicated equations and a doodle of a hydrogen atom eating the Earth.
Inko wasn't focusing on that however. “Perfect score again dear!” She said, smiling indulgently at Izuku. Her son brightened as well. She glanced back at the science teacher. “Hopefully you can enter his score quick, I know my Izuku doesn't like his work to be out of sight for long.” She said.
The man gaped at her, at a complete loss for words.
The only thing that did get Izuku’s points deducted was his inability to focus. He’d be answering a question on a math test only for a new train of thought to take over and notes would be scribbled all over the paper by the time he was done.
And oh how he cringed when it was done. It was the key to his work, why couldn't his teachers see that? Having to place his work in a bin when it could be lost or stolen or even destroyed. Perish the thought.
Kindergarten was a full on war. Izuku had a tendency to melt down when his precious papers were taken away. Multiple calls were made because he managed to stuff himself behind the bookcase again. Ten feet off the ground, no seriously how, the teachers practically nailed it to the wall the last time, Mrs. Inko have you considered testing for monkey mutations?
And that god forsaken day when a teacher wrestled the paper away and Izuku screamed so loud, he broke the windows. And then grabbed the paper while the teacher was still in shock and dove out the nearest broken window. He nearly made it a mile away before they caught up to him.
In the end, Izuku got special dispensation to have his papers graded within the day. Preferably with him watching them the whole time but then Inko got the disappointed look and Izuku agreed to within a day.
Tell any of his early teachers he was Quirkless and you would have gotten a disbelieving look. Izuku was LOUD. A complete change to the tiny shy kid who holed up with a book whenever he could.
Which ended up coming to a head one day in class when he was six. Not quite by Izuku’s fault, he had been rather sedately scanning a book on physics, which drew from real life hero examples.
A meaty hand slammed it closed to his desk. “Still reading that tripe, eh?” Mizuki sneered. His Quirk was Brass Knuckles, Izuku thought, looking at the boy’s ridged knuckles. Huh, that could make for a nice pair of power gloves and that he could attach a gun, make it part of the gauntlet but power source would have to b-
Mizuki hit the desk again. Izuku sniffed irritably at being interrupted from his science. “Listen to me when I'm talking to you squirt.” Izuku glanced around him to the front of the room but Mrs. Hanzo was on one of her infamously long bathroom breaks.
“Then I'll show ya.” Mizuki yelled. Izuku turned back, looking up to see what the big deal wa-
Pain exploded in the left side of his face. He could taste blood in his mouth but no sign of nosebleeds, his brain was okay. Izuku numbly licked the blood away from his split lip.
He hit him. Mizuki hit him.
It's not like he hadn't been in a scrap before but no one had ever done more than trip him. Not even Kacchan.
His brain seemed to boil.
Mizuki sneered down at the weakling. That's what he deserved for ignoring him. “What? You gonna cry?” He taunted. Izuku seemed to hunch further into himself, the entire class was watching with wide eyes.
“Heh.”
Mizuki twitched at the sound. “You gotta smart mouth to be laughing right now.” He warned. Izuku didn't even seem to register the words.
“Heh heh he.” And then Izuku looked up and Mizuki froze. Those were not the eyes of an easy target.
Those were the eyes of a mad man.
Izuku looked at him as if he was staring straight into his soul, stripping apart every piece and finding it lacking. Mizuki should punch him again just for doing that.
Instead he watched as Izuku pushed away from his desk and practically skipped out of the room, quietly cackling to himself the entire time. Nobody moved for a long minute, hearing the chuckles fade off in the hallway.
Mrs. Hanzo stepped into a quiet room, everyone staring at her for answers. Her tongue flicked out to taste the air. “Did I miss anything class?” She said.
Nobody answered her.
An hour later, the principal was eyeing the door to the science classroom uneasily. As one in the education department for children, he had faced quite a lot.
Not much of it really held a candle to the ominous sounds of drills echoing from behind that door. Hammers clanged. Electricity snapped. And all throughout came the occasional burst of loud maniacal laughter.
It sounded like something straight out of a horror film. Or news footage.
“I'm not quite sure what the dearie is doing.” Mrs. Suki said. The cloud above her head showed an illustrated scene of her leaving the classroom. “I popped out for a moment to chat with the other science teacher and when I got back, the door was locked.”
The principal rubbed his temples. “I guess we’ll just have to-” He paused. The science classroom had gone quiet. They both turned back to the door.
It clicked and swung open.
The classroom was pitch black but they could see something edging out from the darkness. Something small, maybe a foot tall. It came into the light.
“A duck?” The principal asked. Mrs.Suki’s cloud was filled with question marks.
It would have looked like a normal duck, if it wasn’t for its bright yellow feathers as if someone had decided that rubber ducks made a good example. It also looked strangely fuzzy for a duck, like mist was hovering over its feathers. It's waddle was awkward like it had never waddled before.
The red eyes glowing with malevolence was a tip off too.
They stared at the duck. The duck stared back.
A burst of maniacal laughter from the shadows. “My friends! Code Era-duck-ation!” The principal frowned.
“That was Midoriya right?” A click came from the duck. The shadows behind it began to shift, bright red eyes opening and focusing. Then the laser gun popped out of the duck’s back.
Only the principal’s reflexes, well tuned from years of handling children with destructive Quirks saved him. The laser burned through the wall behind him, leaving a burned hole the size of a quarter.
Then complete and utter pandemonium broke out. The ducks surged forward.
It wasn't quite as bad as they feared in the end. Acute trauma from all involved, especially when the ducks broke free of the cordon and proved terrifyingly competent at dodging the Quirks of young children who found themselves under siege but eventually they had wrestled the wrench away from Izuku, while dodging the lasers. Inko walked in just as the principal executed a rather slick slide to hide under a desk while three ducks released fire all at once.
It was like someone hit a universal pause button.
Inko surveyed the scarred room, the ducks, and her son standing in the middle of it all. “Izuku-kun, what did I say about robotic armies?” She said, putting her hands on her hips.
Izuku pouted up at his mother. “It's not an army! The Era-duck-ation squad is only thirteen!” A teacher choked behind him. It had felt more like three hundred ducks. At least in the sixties.
“Doesn't matter dearie. Now get your friends and go, I'm planning on making katsudon tonight and we need to stop by the grocery store.” Inko said. Izuku nodded fervently, skipping away to grab his bags. Ducks seemed to come out of the woodwork to waddle along behind him like overgrown ducklings around their mother. Inko cooed at the adorable sight.
The principal cleared his throat nervously. “Ah, Inko-san?”
“Yes?”
“It may be for the best if Izuku switched schools. To one better with handling his, ah, outbursts.” The principal said. He had some aggressive kids but never one that seemed to be heading straight into mad scientist territory. On an out of control train going the speed of light.
Inko shook her hand. “No, no, you've been doing so well so far! And I’d hate to take Izuku away from his friends.”
The principal stiffened as Izuku padded from behind the corner, his duck squad following obediently. “Well, maybe just an evaluation?” He said weakly. Surely, Izuku would be moved to a better school if that was the case.
“I'll make an appointment if that makes you feel better.” Inko said. The principal nodded numbly as the family slipped out the front door. He couldn’t even relax until the last waddling figure was out of sight.
A muscled man burst through the doors wearing what look to be a bright yellow leotard about two sizes too small. “It is I, King Leo! Here to respond to your cry of help!” He said, striking what he clearly thought to be a hero pose. “What evildoer shall I do battle with?” Behind him, the sliding door closed with a death rattle before crashing down off its hinges.
The principal gave up and finally started to sob.
He should have been an accountant.
Inko blinked at her son’s room in bemusement. “Forty two ducks? Really dear?” She asked. Izuku shyly nodded from his bed, where he was corralling a swarm of poofy yellow ducklings with the same cold red eyes.
“Yeah! If you count the Spy chicks,” he motioned at the group he was corralling, “And Mother Goose!” Izuku pointed. Indeed, a grumpy white goose crouched on top of his dresser, surveying the room. It looked a bit ridiculous under the large All Might poster though.
“Why a goose?” Inko asked. Izuku beamed.
“Because Duck, Duck, Goose! I just had to do it!” He said as if it made perfect sense. Inko chuckled, her boy really was a genius wasn't he?
“Well, you have an appointment tomorrow and no school.” She said. Izuku perked up, scrambling over his blankets to grab his notebook. He had learned so much at school! Like Kenzi couldn't focus on multiple targets at once with their Quirk and Yukio’s Quirk would-
Much to the principal’s disappointment and the teachers fear, Izuku was not moved to a different school.
Inko brought him to his appointment, not even late despite her having to insist he didn't bring eight ducks along. In the end, Izuku left with only one duck, the fondly named Mother Ducker.
The poor secretary nearly had a minor heart attack under the cold stare of the duck despite Inko’s assurance that it wouldn't do anything.
“I mean, honestly, Izuku wouldn't hurt a fly.” Inko said. Izuku was quietly studying a science textbook in one of the stiff high back chairs. Mother Ducker perched on his lap and glared at all who dared infringe on its space. It's space seemed to take up the entire building.
The secretary chuckled nervously. “I'm sure he wouldn't.” That gleam in his eyes was almost like that Spark that had come in one day and- no no repress, that never happened.
“It’ll be just a moment though. I'm afraid I made a tiny mistake on his paperwork.” A tiny jerk of the hand and forty two become four hundred and twenty which was a rather different sum.
“Take your time.” Inko said benevolently. The secretary shuddered.
Izuku glanced up from his book, frowning slightly. Nobody had ever looked at him like that before. They had always been happy or after his diagnosis, pitying.
No one had ever looked at him like that. Like… like fear.
He didn’t know how he felt about it. So for once, he ignored the outlier and tried to continue reading. Mother Ducker hissed, stroking his arm with their beak.
Eventually they were escorted to a room for an examination. And then the first obstacle was triggered.
“I just want to examine your robotic duck.” The scientist said soothingly. The inspector and Inko exchanged glances. Izuku hunkered down over Mother Ducker protectively. At first he had been interested in the scientist but they wanted to take Mother Ducker away and that was bad.
He eyed the nearest window. “No.” Izuku said. The duck hissed in his arms.
He knew he should have sprung for the robotic rhinoceros while he was at it. No one would dare trifle with his inventions then.
In the end, Izuku consented to an external examination and hovered the entire time. Once the scientist prodded a slightly odd nub on the leg and Izuku shrieked, whipping out what seemed to be a freakish cross between a taser and a gun.
Inko drew it to her just as quickly. “Ara, be a bit more careful.” She said, not quite saying who she was talking to. Izuku pouted.
“I think we’re done here.” The scientist said, stepping back quickly. It was incredibly sophisticated design if a bit crude in parts. The fuzz was actually a layer of micro optics providing a sensory net to examine its environment. No wonder there had been reports of ducks that were fiendishly good at dodging Quirks.
It was a bit creepy how well the duck was geared to deal with Quirks.
Izuku had preened as his beautiful science got the attention it deserved. He didn't like people possibly damaging his masterpieces but it was gratifying to have notice.
The inspector was pale. “I'll handle the school paperwork.” He said a bit faintly.
After a hurried conversation, Izuku was kept in his original school after a few delicate words from Inko on social contact and fragile young minds and oh dear they didn't want Izuku to struggle, did they? A discrete note was placed in his file, of high intelligence. A bit of praise from a made up inspector calling him a bright mind.
Protocol nowadays meant Sparks couldn't be called just that. Too many Supervillains who wised up and went on kidnapping sprees.
Well, the inspector thought later as he downed a bottle of whisky, at least he’s Quirkless. Can't do as much damage. (And Sparks could do quite a lot).
The appointment wasn't as much as a boon to Izuku’s home room teacher.
“See! I have a note and everything! His name is Beaker!” His teacher could barely breathe, every nerve in her body focused on that yellow feathered menace in Izuku’s arms. It had a tiny Afro on its head, the only reason memories hadn't overwhelmed her just yet.
so many eyes and lasers…
The students were slowly but steadily pushing their desks away. Too many still had bandages from a well placed wing smack or a quick duck dodge leaving a new target. Thankfully, Bakugo had been out sick the entire week or the damage could have been much greater.
The teacher swallowed, slowly taking the preferred note. It was indeed paperwork for emotional support robots. But in a smaller hand in the margins was: “Sparks behave better when their shiny toys aren't taken away”.
“I suppose I can allow this.” The teacher said faintly. A flash of yellow made them jump, snapping to attention.
“Oh that's just Beakaboo!” Izuku said. A tiny fluffy ball of feathers was glaring at her from the nest it had made in Izuku’s hair.
“Ah.” She really should've have accepted that job as a mechanic. It would have been so much better.
Beakaboo spat out a little fireball and the teacher willed herself not to cry.
And that's how Izuku ended up on five government watch lists before he was seven. (Later Izuku would be disappointed by this number. His ducks were incredible, he deserved at least eight).