Chapter Text
“And what were you and your husband’s quirks again?” The doctor asked calmly, scribbling onto the top most paper resting on his clipboard.
“I can pull small objects towards myself,” Inko mumbled, floating a crumpled receipt out of her purse and towards her hand while gesturing at it with a tugging motion. Her other hand reached up to brush the tips of her fingers against her cheek in a feeble attempt to comfort herself. “And my husband breathes fire.”
The doctor hummed and scribbled more onto his clipboard paper. He leaned over and grasped a small remote off of the counter next to his chair before clicking a button on it. A screen behind the man lit up black and white, depicting an x-ray of a child’s foot. He sat the small device back down onto the countertop and sighed heavily.
“As you can see here,” The doctor gestured behind himself and towards the screen, “Young Izuku has only one joint in his pinky toe. This mutation is commonly associated with the presence of a quirk, given the two genes being so close on the same helix of DNA. While your son has not shown the signs of a developing quirk, it is likely that he does, in fact, have one. However, his quirk is most likely a type we call ‘ghost quirks’. A ghost quirk is when a quirk is apparent in someone’s genes, but never quite shows itself in a physical or mental way, or at least not enough so to be noticeable or to make much of a difference. Quirks of this nature are usually things such as minor empathy, strength enhancement, intelligence, speed enhancement, etcetera. His quirk could also be one that we would call an inactive quirk. These quirks explain themselves through their name, but they would have an extremely hard to meet condition to activate them. These quirks would be rather specific and considering the nature of the quirks you described to me, Izuku’s probably wouldn’t be one of them. His quirk will essentially make no difference in his life, so it doesn’t exactly matter what it is.”
Inko had already grasped the receipt by the time the doctor finished his explanation, but her grip had slackened through the monologue until the balled up paper tumbled out onto the floor. She gasped and placed a hand over her mouth, empathetic tears welling up in her eyes. Her son was the kindest, most wonderful little guy in the world, and maybe she was a little biased, but all mothers were. Her little boy didn’t deserve that, he wanted to save others just because he was good. She hesitantly moved her hand away from her mouth and took it in her other hand, clasping her hands together in her lap. She cleared her throat weakly.
“B-But that can’t be right…” She choked out, struggling to keep the tears in her eyes. “Are you c-certain? There-There has to be a way to make sure...isn’t there?”
The doctor exhaled loudly. “Midoriya-san, I respect your love for your son, and I respect his desire to help others, but it just isn’t happening. There is a way to check, but it most likely won’t yield different results. And, of course, it does cost much more. I know you were already struggling to pay for this appointment alone.”
“I-I…” Inko sobbed, squeezing her eyes shut. She reached up to press her hand against her chest, curling in on herself slightly.
“It isn’t happening, Midoriya-san,” The doctor repeated more sternly.
Young Izuku seemed to have snapped out of a trance at the words, having previously been idly trailing the room with his eyes and barely registering the words that the doctor uttered. He blinked slowly and clutched his All Might doll tighter, pulse drumming in the tips of his fingers with how tightly he held the hard plastic. He glanced to the corner of the room and then to his All Might doll before a confused expression crossed his face.
“But…” He murmured confusedly, still staring at the doll as if he was consulting it instead of the real life doctor sitting in front of him.
“I’m sorry, kid,” The doctor sighed out, mistaking Izuku’s confusion for sadness. “I wish you could be a hero, too.”
All Izuku did was frown, glancing to his side instead of one of the walls, seeming to stare into the void itself.
Inko remembered that day almost perfectly. Admittedly, it wasn’t too long since then, but she remembered it. Her son was a curious boy and would watch a room silently, taking in small details and keeping them in his head before bringing them back out when it mattered. Now, she thinks there might be something wrong with him. Sometimes she would catch him staring at the walls in his room intently, as if there was someone there he had to listen to or else the world would end. Even worse, she swore she could hear him mumbling to himself, weaving statements as if he was answering questions; they were worded like that, at least. But, like the cherry on top, he had been losing sleep. To the point where dark circles lined the lids under his eyes like tinted glass, darker than the last day over and over again.
Naturally, all of this led her to what she ended up doing. Inko hesitantly approached her son’s room before knocking on the door. Not waiting for or really expecting an answer, she had just pushed her son’s door open and stood in the doorway. Izuku sat cross legged on his bed, staring at the wall opposite to him with an easy smile on his face. He threaded his fingers together, holding his hands up and giggling at the wall, almost displaying the odd shape he had twisted them into to the nonexistent figure standing in front of him. Of course, there wasn’t a figure, just her son...and a wall.
“Izuku?” She called out softly, stepping farther into the small room. “Izuku, you have a check up with the doctor today. We’re going to go get ice cream after, okay? If you cooperate with them.”
Izuku blinked lazily at his mother and nodded slightly. He yawned and unhooked his fingers before rubbing at his eyes. He stood up and stumbled to his mother, as if his energy from earlier had been drained from him and he could barely register his surroundings properly.
“Okay, Mama…” Izuku mumbled sleepily and grabbed his mother's hand. She smiled softly at him before beginning to guide him out of the bedroom and towards the front door.
The bus ride to the hospital had been an experience, to say the least. Izuku had never enjoyed large crowds of people and preferred to stay inside as of late, given he didn’t hang out with the other kids often. Inko squeezed her baby’s hand when she heard him emit a soft sniffle before she reached over with her unoccupied hand and ran her fingers through his hair, cooing softly. He smiled slightly and began to stare off into space again, tilting his head at nothing. Inko hummed, concerned once again, but didn’t stop carding her fingers through his hair.
Upon entering the building, Inko hefted Izuku up and brought him to one of the chairs for the waiting room. She sat him down and kissed his forehead before heading to the receptionist to ask them about their appointment. Izuku scrunched his nose up and pouted at his mother’s departance, huffing childishly. Inko talked quietly with the person, explaining their visit and taking the clipboard of forms as Izuku stared at some random person and furrowed his brows at them. Inko came back to sit down next to Izuku and fill out the papers, reaching over to ruffle his hair, prompting a giggle out of the small child.
It didn’t take long for a nurse to walk out of the back and call their name, to which Inko gently pushed Izuku forward and towards the person by the shoulders, following behind him. The nurse smiled softly at the nervous boy before guiding them to their room. They waved at Izuku and excused themselves with the generic statement of, ‘The doctor will be with you soon.’ When the doctor did arrive, Izuku gazed at her, humming happily and kicking his legs. The doctor cheerfully waved at the small boy and grinned; he grinned back before reaching up and poking at his canines curiously.
“Alright, Midoriya-san, what seems to be the problem?” The doctor asked cheerfully, striding over to her desk and countertop to gather a few cotton swabs. “Does he have some sort of bug? Perhaps a stomach problem? That has been going around recently, I’ve noticed.”
Inko grimaced and shook her head. “He’s been...acting strangely, I think. He’ll stare off into space,” she glanced at her son and gestured to him, “and has been having trouble sleeping. He’ll watch the room around him as if he’s watching something and he mumbles to himself. I’m worried he might have a mental disorder of some kind.”
The doctor pursed her lips concernedly, halting in gathering the utensils for an average stomach bug or sore throat. “He might…” She mumbled and turned to the two guests in her room. “It could be the symptoms of a quirk. What is his, exactly?”
“He only has one toe joint, so his quirk doctor believed that he had one, but it wouldn’t have showed itself. A ghost quirk, he called it,” Inko explained worriedly. “Why? Is that it? I’d hate for my baby to suffer because of a quirk!”
The doctor smiled reassuringly, her smile lines just slightly too pronounced not to be forced. “I’m sure if it is, it will only be temporary, Midoriya-san. Some quirks have symptoms of that sort as they’re developing. However, he might have a mental disorder. I’m not saying this so that you’ll panic, though, I promise. I hope he doesn’t as much as you do, but you’ll have to be prepared for it if it is the case, okay?”
Inko nodded sadly, chewing at her bottom lip. She reached over and grasped at Izuku’s hand, who was still pushing at his canine teeth with the other and staring off into space. He blinked slowly before squeezing his mother’s hand, glancing over to her with a worried expression on his face. She shook her head and smiled broadly.
“It’s okay, Izu-sweetheart. Did you hear her? Your quirk might be coming in!” Inko reassured. Izuku blinked again before his mouth twisted into a confused scowl. He glanced at the countertop that the doctor had been meddling at before and slowly nodded, his expression softening.
“Okay,” He said with all the monotonousness that a six year old could muster. He then nodded again, more confident in Inko’s words. “Okay!”
Inko did, in fact, bring her son to get ice cream. She was a woman of her word wholeheartedly, especially to her own son. If he stared off into space and only came to when some of his ice cream melted onto his hand, then she didn’t comment on it. She would take Izuku to the doctor again if the problem persisted, but for now she couldn’t show too much worry. Her baby could have anxiety to compete against her own some days, and she couldn’t bear it if she were to be the cause of such a thing, even indirectly. Such things could be helped and she would make sure her baby wasn’t a victim of this sort of pain.