Chapter Text
Midoriya Inko’s heart sank as the doctor delivered his verdict. Quirkless. Her little boy was quirkless. Of course, after all these years of never developing a quirk, it was an expected outcome, but it still hurt to have confirmation. Inko would never think less of him for it, but she knew the statistics—only 67% quirkless children survived past adulthood, mostly due to hate crime or suicide. Out of the survivors, only 75.8% lived past the age of 40. Quirkless people were 43% more likely to suffer from depression, 53% more likely to commit suicide, as well as 69.3% more likely to be bullied or abused at some point in their life. As a doctor, she had seen too many quirkless people—mostly children—sent to the hospital for attempted suicide or bullying and abuse gone out of hand. Not all of them had survived.
Not only that, quirkless people were also 74.6% more likely to be unemployed, as well as 38.9% more likely to be homeless.
The point was, in this day and age, a quirkless diagnosis was as good as a death sentence.
Inko could not—would not—subject Izuku to a life like that.
Her resolve only solidified when she thought about Hisashi, who had transferred to America when Izuku reached the age of five but still did not manifest a quirk. For the first year, he only ever called home to enquire about Izuku’s quirk status. Now, two years later, he never called at all.
Inko couldn’t believe she ever fell in love with the quirkist bastard. At least he still sent home money from time to time.
At any rate, Inko couldn’t put ‘quirkless’ on Izuku’s quirk registry. Sure, lying on government forms was illegal, but Inko would go to the ends of the earth for her son.
Besides, it wouldn't even be the most illegal thing she had done.
There was a hacker who owed her a favour. She could erase the records of Izuku’s visits to the quirk clinic. Inko could update the quirk registry on the claim that Izuku was a late bloomer.
Yes, this was feasible. But for now, her son needed her. She would decide on Izuku’s pseudo-quirk later.
Izuku was oddly quiet on the way home. Inko was worried. She knew he would react badly to the doctor’s news, but to not even answer when she prompted him about heroes? Izuku never turned down talk about heroes. Never. Inko would have to talk to him later, but not yet. Not on the streets, where anyone could overhear.
At home, Izuku rushed to the computer, insisting that he must watch All Might’s debut video again. Inko could see his eyes glimmering with unshed tears. She forced herself to hold in her own tears as she quietly opened the video.
Halfway through the video, Izuku turned to her, his mouth forced into an unnatural smile. “See that, mum?” he whispered, “There's always a smile on his face no matter how bad things get. Even when things seem impossible, he never gives up.”
Inko sniffled. Even when his world had been turned upside down, her little boy was trying so hard to be brave. She was so proud of him.
“Mum,” Izuku continued, voice trembling, “Do you…do you think...I can be a hero too?”
Inko couldn’t hold herself back any longer. She had wanted to wait until she had decided on Izuku’s pseudo-quirk, but clearly this couldn’t wait.
“Izuku, honey,” she kneeled next to Izuku’s chair, placing her hands on his shoulders firmly. She couldn’t mess up now, her boy needed her. “Of course you can. You’re so brave and smart; you can do anything you put your mind to. I believe in you, ‘Zuku. I love you so much.”
Izuku sniffed. Crocodile tears rolled down his cheeks.
“Also,” Inko continued, “you do have a quirk. The doctor was wrong.” She poured as much conviction as she could into her voice. Izuku had to believe her.
“…I have…real…really…?” Izuku was openly sobbing now, but Inko could see hope in his eyes. Just a little, yet it was better than nothing.
“Yes.” Inko stated firmly. “It…” She glanced around the room, praying for inspiration. Her eyes caught on Izuku’s quirk analysis notebooks. “It is an analysis quirk.” Her boy certainly had the intellect for it. Even at seven, his analysis could rival those of budding professionals’.
Izuku wiped at his tears frantically, but they kept coming, “…but…but the doctor said…”
“The doctor was wrong, ‘Zuku.” Inko repeated, “You know how you like to analyze people’s quirks? That was your quirk at work. And the muttering when thinking is a side effect of your quirk. You’ve had a quirk all this time, ‘Zuku. It’s just that no one realized until today.”
“I’ve…I’ve had a quirk this whole time…?” Izuku stopped crying, his expression replaced by one of disbelief. “I’ve had a quirk this whole time.” He repeated; his brain could not seem to wrap around the idea. Finally, Izuku’s face split into a genuine smile. “I’ve had a quirk this whole time!” He cheered.
“Yes, ‘Zuku,” Inko laughed, hugging her son, “You’ve had a quirk this whole time.”
Izuku jumped up, All Might video long forgotten. He grabbed the latest analysis notebook, already scribbling about his pseudo-quirk. “I can’t wait to tell Kacchan about my quirk tomorrow. He’ll be so excited—we can finally be a hero duo like we wanted! And about my quirk…”
Inko laughed, “I’ll leave you to it. Do you want katsudon for dinner?”
Izuku squealed, “Yes!”
Smiling, Inko left her son’s room, warmth blooming in her chest. She took out her phone and texted the hacker that they needed to meet, tuning out the voice telling her even if this worked, the truth would eventually come out. Then, it would hurt Izuku even more to have his mother lie to him about something so significant. He would think Inko was disappointed that he was quirkless. He would hate her and himself for it.
No, it would work, she told herself firmly. For Izuku’s sake, Inko would make sure it worked. No matter what it took.