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Izuku had always been a healthy child. The worst sicknesses he got were colds, and even then they didn’t last long. He’d only ever been in the hospital for a burn injury when he was five. He’d never been on medication of any kind- only the occasional dose of Benadryl when he wasn’t feeling well.

So it came as a shock to both him and his mother when he suddenly was struck by a horrible headache.

His mom, ever the worrier, fussed over him the entire time. She blocked out the light from his windows, draping blankets over them and keeping the lights off. She gave him a pair of headphones to mute any sounds, and a trash can by the side of his bed in case his nausea got too overwhelming.

All in all, it was a horrible experience, and one Izuku hoped would never happen again, but after a day or so, it was over. He tore the blankets down, turned the lights back on, and resumed life as normal.

Well, he tried to, at least.

His mom said the headache was called a “migraine,” and that she used to get them back in high school, but that now they’d gone into remission. He saw his pediatrician, who said that everything looked normal, but that if it happened again, he should go see a neurologist. Izuku agreed, leaving with a prescription of some medication called “Maxalt” in case the migraine ever came back, and that was that.

He thought everything was back to normal- he’d go back to school, deal with Kacchan, and do his homework like he always did.

Unfortunately for Izuku, everything spiraled downhill from there.

It started when he woke up, three days after the horrible migraine.

He sat up in bed, rubbing the crustiness from his eyes. He frowned when the blankets shifted against his legs. One leg felt… weird, almost numb. He shook his head. Maybe he’d slept on a nerve.

“Izuku! Breakfast!” his mom called, voice muffled through the wall.

“Coming!”

Izuku threw the blankets off, eager to go eat. He usually wasn’t this excited to get out of bed (being bullied by your former childhood friend would do that), but today he was going to a meet and greet event for Kamui Woods after school, and no amount of harassment from Kacchan or his lackeys could put a damper on his excitement.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, leapt out, and-

Smacked his chin against the hardwood floor.

Izuku’s head spun from the impact. He put a hand up to his chin, staring numbly when he brought it back into view. Sticky crimson blood dripped from his fingers and onto the floor.

Izuku heard the pounding of footsteps outside his door. He felt the rush of air when his door was pushed open.

“Izuku?! I heard a bang, are you okay?!”

“Um,” he blinked, using his hands to prop himself up. His mom rushed over, helping him sit and lean back against his bed.

“Oh dear, you’re bleeding,” she said, brows creased in worry, “I’ll go get some toilet paper. You wait here.”

Izuku nodded, watching as his mom scampered off to the bathroom. She returned in record time, toting a small first aid kit and a wad of toilet paper.

“Why don’t you get on the bed, sweetie,” she said, taking a seat on the aforementioned piece of furniture, “it’ll be easier to see up here.”

“Okay,” he agreed, wiping some of the blood from his chin. He winced at the sting of the injury- at least it didn’t feel too bad, it just hurt a lot.

He went to sit up, then frowned when he couldn’t.

His mom finished prepping the alcohol wipes and looked down. “Izuku? Can you please get up here, honey?”

“I- I can’t,” he frowned. He tried to support his weight and push himself off the ground with his legs, but only his right leg seemed to work. With the help of his mom, he managed to hobble his way up to a standing position, then collapsed onto the bed.

“You must have hurt your leg in the fall, too,” she muttered, more to herself than to him, and rolled up his pajama pant leg to search for injuries. “That’s weird, I can’t see any marks.”

“It’s probably just a bruise or something,” he said, trying not to focus on the fact that his leg didn’t hurt. He really just wanted to get breakfast at this point.

“Okay, if you say so,” she worried, dabbing at the gash with one of the wipes. Izuku let out a tiny yelp, the injury throbbing and stinging. “I’m sorry, Izuku, it won’t be too much longer now.”

He tried to keep the tears out of his eyes as he nodded. Eventually his mom deemed the injury sufficiently clean and held the wad of toilet paper there to staunch the bleeding. Once the bleeding slowed, she patched it up with a bandaid and patted him on the head.

“There, all done,” she said, a worried smile on her face. She kissed his forehead. “Go get ready for school now, and try not to fall again.”

“Okay,” Izuku smiled back, watching her until she left. He sighed, this time bracing himself on the edge of his bed when he attempted to stand. His left leg still felt weirdly numb and it was awkward trying to walk on it, but after a few laps around his room, supporting most of his weight on his walls and furniture, he was starting to get the hang of it. He had some sort of limp, something that concerned Izuku, but he figured he’d just slept funny, or maybe he’d injured a nerve or something.

He managed to get dressed, having to pull his left leg through his uniform pants with his hands, but he managed nonetheless. He hobbled over to the door and picked up his backpack, slinging it over his shoulder. He nearly toppled over at the extra weight, but managed to keep his balance.

He limped into the kitchen, making sure his mom was turned away when he entered. He didn’t need her worrying over this- she already had enough on her plate.

“Ah! Izuku, breakfast is ready,” she smiled, bringing two plates of omurice to the table, “how’s your chin feeling?”

“Better already,” he grinned, bowing his head in blessing before digging into his meal.

He finished soon enough and went to stand, but his mom stopped him. “That’s alright, honey, I’ll clear up the table. You’re running a bit behind, so you should get going.”

“Okay,” he smiled, waiting for her to turn around before hobbling over to the door. He shoved his shoes on and said his goodbyes. “See you after the meet and greet, Mom!”

“Bye sweetie! Have a good day!”

Izuku let the smile fall from his face as soon as he closed the door behind him. How on earth was he going to get down three flights of stairs with a leg that refused to work correctly?

The twelve-year-old stared down the first staircase, frowning as he tried to figure out a way around his problem. Unluckily for him, his apartment building didn’t have an elevator, so he had no choice but to use the stairs.

He wound up hobbling down the first flight until his leg hurt too much to go on. He scooted down the other two, keeping his left leg as still as possible. He got a few weird looks from some of his neighbors, but nobody bothered asking what he was doing.

He hobbled the whole day, but it was fine- it was just a pinched nerve, right? Nothing to worry about…

At least, that was what he told himself.

He didn’t expect his health to get worse.

.

.

.

It had been three days since Izuku’s leg had stopped working correctly, and in all honesty he was starting to get a little bit worried.

He didn’t tell his mom- how could he? She already had so much on her plate- and it wasn’t like he had any friends or teachers he could consult, so he dealt with it on his own.

Sure he could barely hide his limp, but nobody looked at him anyway, so it didn’t matter.

He’d noticed other changes too- his vision was starting to get a little blurry, just like it had with his migraine, only this time his head didn’t feel like it was going to split open. His stutter was more pronounced and happened all the time, not just when he was anxious.

It was really weird and Izuku was worried that something was seriously wrong.

But of course, he didn’t tell anybody about it.

He was a useless Deku anyways. Who would even want to hear about his problems? He was probably making it up anyways.

But as Izuku laid on his bed, head aching from straining his eyes to read all day, he couldn’t help but wonder if his symptoms weren’t all made up in his head. He closed his eyes, letting a sob shake through his body, and felt a few tears drip down onto his pillow.

He glanced up at the alarm clock on his nightstand- it read four-thirty-three. He hadn’t been able to sleep all night because of his headache and the pain and tingling in his leg. His eyes were almost glued together from how groggy they felt.

He sniffled, wiped his hand across his face, and turned on the light. He reached into his nightstand, pulled out a notebook, flipped to a blank page, and started writing.

Symptoms:

-blurry vision

-left leg hurts

-left leg and arm tingle

-left leg can’t move as well

-migraine

-stutter is worse

He tapped his pencil against the notebook in thought.

Causes:

-migraine?

He shook his head, stuffing the notebook back into the drawer. He sniffled, wiped the quickly-drying tear tracks from his face, and hobbled out of bed and into the kitchen. He reached up into one of the cabinets and pulled down a bowl and a box of cereal, limping over to the table to eat once he was finished.

He only had two more hours until he had to get up for school, so he figured he’d just stay awake at this point. He ate the cereal, frowning when his left arm started tingling for seemingly no reason. Did he keep sleeping on a nerve or something? Why did his limbs tingle all the time?

He sighed, trying to push the thought out of his head. He finished his cereal, enjoying the peace that came with the early hours of the morning, even if it meant that he was dead tired.

He stood, taking care to make sure he didn’t topple over, and picked up the bowl. He meant to take it over to the sink, but for some reason, as soon as he started walking, it dropped out of his hand, clattering onto the hardwood floor louder than Izuku would have liked it to at such an early hour.

Frowning, Izuku bent over to pick it up. He blinked when it happened for a second time. Okay, that was weird. Izuku’s heart picked up. He thought the bad nerve was just affecting his leg, but now it was making his arm weird, too?

“Izuku?”

Crap.

Izuku scrambled to pick up the bowl with his right hand instead of his left, spinning around to face his mom. His mom rubbed her eyes, nightgown rumbled and green hair sticking up in odd places.

“What was that noise?” she yawned, crossing her arms and squinting her eyes open at him.

“O-oh, I dr-dddd-dr-dropped something.”

She blinked sleepily at him. “Why are you out of bed? It’s nearly five in the morning, you have school in a couple hours.”

“Um,” Izuku shifted guiltily, trying to think of an excuse. He decided to tell a half-truth. “I couldn’t sss-l-sleep and I got hun-hun-hun-hungry, so I wan-wanted some cereal.”

She frowned, but accepted the excuse. “Try to get back to sleep,” she said, turning to leave, “and please be quieter in the future, okay?”

“Okay, m-m-mom.”

She stopped in her tracks. “Izuku, is your stutter getting worse?”

“Nuh-no,” he fibbed, “It’s f-fffff-fine.”

She looked doubtful, but once again took his word for it. “Okay. Goodnight, Izuku.”

“G-goodnight.”

He cringed, letting out a sigh of relief once she was out of view. There was no way he was going to be able to go to sleep now, even though his headache was slightly better, so he decided to put on the TV instead.

He wobbled over to the couch, flopping down and letting out a sigh as he took the weight off his aching leg. He turned on the TV, switching to a late-night hero broadcast, and turned the volume down until he could barely hear it. He closed his eyes, letting the light from the TV filter through his eyelids.

It was nice. He dozed off after a few minutes, leg pain forgotten, and didn’t think much else of it.

It was just a pinched nerve. Nothing to worry about.

Unless there was something actually wrong with him?

No. No, there wasn’t. He was fine. He was just a little anxious, that’s why his stutter was so bad, and it must be why his vision was bad, too.

There was absolutely nothing wrong with him.

.

.

.

Inko hummed to herself as she sifted through her purse. She smiled when she found her keys and pulled them out. “Izuku! Time to go!”

She was excited for the first time in a while. They were going to visit a family friend- Hayashi Kiko- who Inko hadn’t seen in quite a number of months.

It would do good for the both of them, she figured- Inko herself had been cooped up as of late and was eager to get out of the house, and she thought that maybe it would do good for Izuku, too. Her poor son- he had a limp, which Inko would admit concerned her, but according to him, he kept sleeping on a nerve. He was obviously more anxious than usual, if his stutter and the fact that he kept dropping everything were anything to go off.

All in all, it would do both of them good to get out of the house. Izuku no doubt would benefit from positive social interaction.

“Coming, Mom!”

Izuku appeared from around the corner, toting a little bag that Inko knew contained his notebook and a few things to keep him busy. He had a funny way of running now- his hobbled footsteps made it quite amusing to watch him try to run, and he almost looked like a baby duckling that had just learned how to walk.

“Ready to go?” she asked, giving him a reassuring smile.

Izuku shifted in place, offering a wobbly smile in return that gave away his nerves. “R-ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Alright,” she smiled, opening the door and holding it so he could hobble by. She locked it behind them and let Izuku lead the way to the stairs.

She tried to hide her concern when Izuku had to go down the stairs one by one, gripping onto the railing for dear life. If only there was an elevator he could use in place of the stairs. He had to manually lift his leg up on the last two flights down, placing his left leg on the stair first, then stepping down with his right. She didn’t comment on it, though- she didn’t want him to feel embarrassed.

She couldn’t help but feel like there was something truly wrong, but she pushed those negative thoughts away. The limp had only been going on for a few months or so- there was nothing to worry about. It hadn’t gotten any worse, so there was no reason to spend thousands of dollars just for a doctor to say he was fine.

“Izuku? Are you okay?” she asked, noticing how he had to stop at the bottom of the stairs to catch his breath.

“Y-yeeee-yeah,” he stuttered, “g-gimme a sec.”

She patiently waited, tapping her foot against the carpeted floor, until Izuku managed to get his breathing under control again. He hobbled over to her, supporting his weight by using the wall, and nodded. “Okay, I’m g-guh-good.”

“Alright,” she said, trying to keep the worry out of her voice. “Do you need any help getting to the car?”

“M-maybe a little,” he admitted, sheepishly rubbing his arm, “I-I don-t know if I can-can get all the way there.”

“That’s okay,” she forced a tiny smile, “I’ll help you.”

She let him use her as a crutch of sorts. She wrapped an arm around his back and kept him steady while he used her as a support to hobble out into the parking lot. She ignored any weird looks from the other patrons and the ladies at the front desk, pushing forward until they were at the car.

She let go of him to unlock the car, letting him support his weight against the vehicle instead. She waited until he managed to climb his way into the back seat before she went around to get in herself.

“All buckled up?” she asked, adjusting the mirror so she could see him.

“Yep!” he chirped, swinging one of his legs idly against the back of the passenger’s seat. “How long is the drive?”

“About ten minutes,” she answered, starting up the car. She pulled out, making sure to keep an eye on him in case his pain got any worse, and drove away.

Luckily, Izuku’s pain seemed to be fading the longer they drove, his winces only limited to whenever his left leg was flung against his seat. She frowned, but kept driving nonetheless. Izuku’s condition was starting to worry her, if she was being honest- she hadn’t seen how bad it had gotten. She thought that it was just a little limp because of a compressed nerve, but now that she saw him limp down three flights of stairs and had helped him hobble his way the short distance to the car, she had other ideas.

That wasn’t just a little limp- that was something more serious. Had this been going on for months?

She barely noticed when she pulled into Kiko’s driveway, only realizing she was there when she absentmindedly stopped the car. She blinked back into focus. “We’re here,” she announced unnecessarily, turning around to look at her son.

Izuku blinked awake- somehow he’d managed to conk out in the ten short minutes they were in the car, which was a sign of just how little sleep he was getting. He rubbed at his eyes, the same way he had always done since he was a baby, and unbuckled his seatbelt.

She opened the car door for him, giving him a look of sympathy when he struggled his way out of the car. She grabbed his bag from the floor in front of his seat and laid a hand on his back to rub it soothingly.

“I’m tired,” he complained, whiny as he always was when he woke up.

“I know, but you won’t be once we get inside,” she said, her hand coming around to grip onto his, “come on- Kiko’s waiting for us.”

Izuku nodded, tugging his hand away so he could hobble his way up the front walkway himself. She led, peeking her head over her shoulder every few steps to make sure he wasn’t lingering behind. Inko knocked on the door, practically vibrating with excitement, and waited for her friend to answer.

“Inko!” Kiko grinned, throwing her arms open for a hug. Inko smiled, wrapping her arms around Kiko. Kiko patted her back twice, then pulled away. She turned to Izuku, smile dimming just a bit. “Izuku! You’ve gotten so big!”

Izuku blushed, shifting awkwardly. “Hhhh-hi, Kiko-san.”

“Ah, none of that ‘san’ nonsense, Izu,” Kiko beamed, stepping out to pull Izuku into a hug, “we’re basically family!”

Izuku’s blush only deepened. He turned to Inko, a look of false desperation on his face. Inko giggled, reaching out to pinch his ear.

Kiko pulled away- my, her friend was just as energetic as always- and propped open the door for them. “Come in! There’s sandwiches on the table.”

Inko stepped inside, toeing her shoes off at the door, and scooted off to the side so Izuku could do the same. Izuku had a noticeably more difficult time taking his shoes off than he usually did, Inko noticed with a frown. He had to sit down to pull them off with one hand, not even bothering to untie the laces on his bright red sneakers.

“Do you need help getting up, Izuku?” Inko fretted, bending over in case he said yes.

“I’m fine, Mom,” Izuku shook his head, leaning his weight against the wall to prop himself up. He struggled to his feet, eyes widening when he noticed Inko staring at him. He flushed and pushed past her to follow Kiko further into the house.

Inko sighed- Izuku was always difficult about asking for help- and followed suit. Kiko seemingly hadn’t noticed Izuku’s limp yet, and if she did, she hadn’t bothered to comment on it. Kiko usually pointed things out the moment she noticed them, though, so it was more likely she just hadn’t noticed it.

Kiko’s son sat at the table already, fidgeting in his high chair. Inko beamed, bending down so she was at his height. “Hello, Mio-chan! My, you’ve gotten so big!”

Mio blinked, looking over at Kiko, who was rummaging through the fridge. “Mama?” he asked, wide-eyed, “who?”

“Ah, Mio, this is Auntie Inko! You haven’t seen her for a few months!” Kiko closed the fridge, returning to the table with a pitcher of water.

“In-ko?” Mio tilted his head.

“That’s right!”

Mio peeked over Inko’s shoulder to where Izuku was getting himself settled on the bench. “Who?” he asked, pointing and reaching out to tug on Inko’s sweater.

“That’s Izuku-chan!” Kiko set the pitcher down, coming over to playfully pinch her son’s cheek. She adjusted his bib, making sure it was tied on properly before she began to serve sandwiches to her guests.

“Izu-tan?” Mio kicked his legs. Inko cooed, ruffling his fluffy magenta curls.

“H-hi, Mio-chan,” Izuku gave a nervous wave.

Mio stared, then broke out into a toothy grin- well, as toothy a grin as a two year old could manage. Inko smiled to herself at the baby’s joy, ducking around to the opposite side of the table. She studied Kiko’s features as the woman served up sandwiches. She had a few more smile lines than she had a few months ago, though her face remained more youthful than Inko’s. Inko had always envied her looks- her body was a bit on the chubby side, but still held curves, and her fluffy magenta hair rivaled Izuku’s mop of curls.

“Inko, hand me your glass?”

“Ah-” Inko blinked, fumbling around for the cup and holding it out. Kiko poured water into the glass, turning to pick up Izuku’s to do the same.

“So, Izuku,” Kiko said, settling herself down into the chair next to the high chair, “how’s life treatin’ ya?”

“Okay,” he shrugged, taking a sip of water.

“Just ‘okay?’ Nothing exciting? Grades, classes, friends..?”

Izuku shrugged again. “I mean, I’m doing good in my classes.”

“That’s good to hear! Inko, what have you been up to?”

“Well, we’ve just been trying to get by,” she said, smiling sympathetically towards her son, “Izuku’s been in a little bit of pain recently.”

“Oh,” Kiko frowned, a look of empathy crossing her face, “I’m sorry to hear that. Any reason why?”

“I kee-kee-keep sleeping funny,” Izuku filled in before Inko could even open her mouth, “my leg’s been hur-hur-hurting.”

“Aw, I hope you feel better soon! Do you still see Dr. Tsubasa? I wanna know if he’s any good. We’re looking to switch doctors soon.”

Inko frowned at the memory of Izuku’s former pediatrician and how his blunt words hurt her son. “He’s good on paper, but he wasn’t right for us.”

Izuku shrunk down into himself, seemingly reliving the same memory as Inko was.

Kiko seemed to notice the tension in the room and quickly changed the subject. “So! Inko, how’s the new job?”

Inko brightened at the chance to change topics. She kept her eye on Izuku during their conversation as discreetly as she could. Izuku seemed to have trouble maneuvering his chopsticks and his glass of water at the same time- he had to set his chopsticks down before taking a sip of water. Inko hid a frown. Izuku normally ate so quickly that he didn’t bother to set down his utensils. How long had that been going on for?

Inko waited until Kiko finished her rant about Mio’s most recent development (apparently the toddler had started to run, and Inko did not feel envious of her) to turn to her son, who was staring at his half-empty plate as if it had offended him.

“Izuku? Are you okay?”

Izuku snapped to attention, squinting at Inko. “U-um, yeah, s-s-sorry. Wh-what were we tal-talk-talking about?”

“Ah, Mio’s already started running!” Kiko beamed, tucking a lock of short magenta hair behind her ear. She turned to her son, grinning, and fed him a spoonful of cereal.

Inko shot Izuku a look of concern. Izuku’s cheeks burned under her gaze and shrank down. “I’m fine, Mom,” he muttered, uncharacteristically snippy.

Inko frowned. “Alright, but if your pain gets worse, let me know, okay?”

Izuku grumbled, but nodded. “Um, K-K-Kiko-san, may I be excused?”

“Oh- of course, Izuku! Why don’t you put your dishes in the sink and I can wash them up later, okay?” Kiko exchanged a worried glance with Inko.

“Okay,” her son mumbled, scooching his chair back. He braced his right arm against the table, pushed himself up, and wobbled in place. He squinted at the floor, blinking harshly for a moment, and picked up his plate.

He managed two steps before he swayed, knees buckling, and toppled over with a loud clatter.

“Izuku!” Inko shrieked, oblivious to Mio’s cries at the sudden loud noise. She jumped out of her chair at the same time as Kiko did, dropping to her knees beside her son. Kiko pushed him over onto his side, brow creased in worry.

“Izuku? Come on honey, open those eyes for me,” Kiko prompted, shaking his shoulders slightly. Izuku took a moment to wake up. He blinked harshly, squinting and rubbing his head.

“Izuku? Wh-what just happened?” Inko’s eyes teared up, hands hovering over her son. Izuku closed his eyes and attempted to sit up. Kiko’s hands flew out behind him in case he toppled over again.

“S-s-sorry,” he hissed, rubbing his forehead, “the plate didn’t break.”

“Izuku, I could care less about the plate,” Kiko fretted, “what just happened there?”

“I don’t know,” Izuku answered, “when I st-st-stood up, my head started hur-hurt-hurting and I got light-llll-light-light-lightheaded.”

“Izuku, you fully passed out there,” Kiko frowned, “Inko, you should take him to the ER.”

“No!” Izuku yelped, “pl-please no. Mom, you can’t afford that.”

“Honey, you just passed out! You need medical attention!”

“C-can’t we just go to the doctor?”

Inko pressed her lips together. “No. We’re going to the hospital. This is serious, Izuku- what if you’d hit your head?!”

“But I didn’t!” Izuku protested. Mio let out a wail. Kiko stood and picked him up out of his seat, bouncing him on her hip.

“Izuku,” Inko set her gaze on him, refusing to back down, “insurance will cover an ER visit. You need to see someone. This is serious, this isn’t just a little bit of leg pain.”

Izuku’s lip wobbled. He ducked his head down, tears dripping down his face. Inko’s features softened at the sight, arms reaching out instinctively to pull him into a hug. “Come on, let’s go get you checked out,” she said, pulling away.

“Do you want me to carry him to the car?” Kiko asked, setting Mio back down now that his cries had settled into harsh sniffles.

“Please,” Inko nodded. Izuku looked like he wanted to protest, but even he seemed to realize that he was in no shape to walk. Inko stood, reaching her arms out for the toddler. Kiko handed her baby off to Inko and bent down to scoop Izuku off the ground.

Inko followed her friend out to the car. She shoved on her shoes as she went out, reaching down with her other hand to pick up Izuku’s sneakers and holding them by the laces.

Kiko hefted Izuku into the car, letting him buckle himself up, and took her son back from Inko’s hold. Inko climbed into the car, only letting herself feel a sliver of disappointment before she was back to worrying again.

“Drive carefully,” Kiko smiled, then ruffled Izuku’s hair, “feel better, Izuku!”

Izuku nodded, eyes already starting to droop, and waved goodbye to Inko’s friend. Kiko slammed the car door shut and stepped back to wave them off.

Inko worried her lip between her teeth. She started up the car and pulled out of the driveway, checking the mirror above her head to look at Izuku. He had already nodded off, it seemed. Inko felt a rush of warmth in her chest and started to drive.

She could only hope that the doctor would be able to figure out what was wrong with Izuku.

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.

.

The attending physician at the ER referred Izuku to a neurologist. Izuku wasn’t exactly sure why, given that his main symptom was his leg pain, although he supposed that passing out when standing up wasn’t something he could avoid getting checked out.

Which led to Izuku’s current situation- sitting on an examination table while a nurse quizzed him on his symptoms.

“Your height and weight are in the lower percentile,” Nurse Emile said, “but that’s not too concerning for a boy your age. You could be a late bloomer.”

Izuku nodded, biting his lip. He snuck a glance at his mom, who gave him a reassuring smile from the chair below.

“And you’re… quirkless?”

“Yes,” Izuku flushed, ducking down. Nurse Emile sent him a smile oozing with sympathy.

“Don’t worry, we don’t discriminate here,” he said, adjusting his glasses, “why don’t we take a look at your symptoms, hm?”

“Okay,” Izuku agreed, the heaviness in his stomach subsiding a bit.

“Now, on here it says you’re here because you passed out when you stood up. How long has that been going on for?”

“Not l-llll-long,” Izuku said, “it’s only hap-hap-happened three times since then.”

“When did it start happening?”

“Two-two-two weeks ago, I think.”

“Hm, that’s odd for it to have set in so quickly. Are you getting enough food and water during the day? Is your sleeping normal?”

“I eat and drink enough,” he answered, fingering the design on his All Might t-shirt.

“He hasn’t been sleeping very well,” his mom cut in, shooting a concerned look at him.

“Any reason that you know of?”

“I’m always in-in-in-innnn-in a lot of pain,” Izuku stuttered, gripping his shirt to calm his frazzled nerves. Why was he so nervous to admit that?

“Where are you feeling the pain?”

“My leg and arm.”

“Which ones? Both, left, right?”

“Lef-lef-left.”

“And how bad would you rate your pain on a scale from one to ten?”

“Um, th-th-three usually,” he answered, “b-but sometimes it’s-it’s-it’s a six or sev-sevvv-seven.”

Nurse Emile’s fingers flew across the keyboard, keys clacking harshly in Izuku’s ears. “Any other symptoms, or is it just the pain?”

“Um, my limbs get-get ting-ting-tingly and numb some-so-so-sometimes,” he mumbled, swinging his legs out, “an-an-and my vision is weird, too. It’s-it’s-it’s blurry. And I can’t smell very good, eith-eith-either.”

“That’s quite a lot of symptoms, Izuku,” Nurse Emile mused, tapping the keys even harder, “do you remember when this started?”

“U-um,” Izuku shifted, uncomfortable, and looked at his mom. “A coup-coup-coup-couple months ago.”

“Is there anything that makes the symptoms worse?”

“Not-not get-g-g-getting en-en-enough sleep, u-um, str-strrrr-stress.”

“Is that it?” Nurse Emile raised an eyebrow.

“I-I dunno.”

“Your stutter seems pretty prominent,” the nurse pointed out, tapping a pen against the desk, “have you been diagnosed by anyone?”

“N-no, sir.”

“Hm,” he hummed, “do you know if anything caused the symptoms?”

Izuku thought back, swinging his legs even more. He drummed his fingers against the examination table.

“W-well, there was that migraine a few months ago, right Izuku?” his mom pointed out.

“Migraine?”

“U-um, yeah,” Izuku nodded.

“It was a one-time thing,” his mom added, “we saw the pediatrician about it. She said that unless it happens again, we don’t have to worry about it. But the symptoms started after that.”

“Hm, well. That’s certainly a lot to consider,” the nurse said, standing up and adjusting his scrubs, “Doctor Nishimura will be in to see you in a few minutes. Hang tight, alright?”

Izuku nodded. “Okay.”

Nurse Emile left, closing the door behind him. Izuku’s heartbeat slowed a bit now that he wasn’t being aggressively interrogated (well, that was a bit of a stretch, but it did feel like that to him) by the nurse. His mom sent him a pitying smile, her hand coming up to rest over his rapidly-drumming fingers, effectively stilling them.

“We’ll get this figured out, okay?”

Izuku nodded, looking up to face her. He nearly teared up at how blurry her face was, even for how close she was. He let his eyes slip shut, not wanting to see her blurry features and be reminded of how messed up he was.

The door opened about five minutes later, Izuku’s eyes opening with it. “Hello, Izuku!” Dr. Nishimura- a woman with a mouse-like face, white fur in place of hair, and enlarged ears- chirped, setting her clipboard down on the desk and shutting the door with her foot. “I heard you aren’t doing so well.”

Izuku shrugged. “I-I guess.”

“Well, that’s what I’m here to help with,” Dr. Nishimura smiled, clicking on a few files until she pulled up Izuku’s. “So,” she said, clicking through the results, “you’re here for various symptoms- wow, that’s a lot to work with! Hmm, let’s see... ah! Pain, tingling, and numbness in left limbs, poor vision, poor sense of smell, and fainting upon standing.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Well,” she stood, smiling, “let’s get those legs and arms of yours checked out, shall we?”

Izuku nodded.

Dr. Nishimura checked a few things before she got into the actual examination- his eyes, ears, and tongue, to be exact. She grabbed a rubber-something (Izuku didn’t know what it was called) and tested the reflexes on his right elbow and wrist. She nodded to herself. “All’s normal there. Let’s check the left one.”

She moved onto the left elbow and wrist, frowning a little when his arm only moved a fraction of an inch. “Well, you certainly weren’t lying about that numbness,” she frowned, “your reflexes are off.”

“Is th-th-thhh-that bad?” Izuku asked, biting his lip in worry.

“It’s abnormal, yes, but let’s finish the exam before we make any assumptions, hm?”

Izuku nodded, letting her test the reflexes on his right leg first, then his left leg. His left leg barely budged more than his left arm did.

“Huh,” she mused, stepping back over to the desk to jot something down onto the computer. She returned shortly thereafter, extending her arms. She took his right hand in her left. “Squeeze for me.” He complied, squeezing as hard as he could. She extended her right hand, taking his left this time. “Again.” Izuku could tell there was a noticeable difference in his grip strength.

She switched to another test. “I need you to tap my finger, then tap your nose. Right hand first.” She held up her pointer finger, which looked more like a mouse’s paw, and waited for him to comply. Izuku repeated the test several times, switching to his left halfway through. He didn’t have any troubles with the test, surprisingly enough, his left hand was just considerably more clumsy.

“Alright, I’m gonna have you get up and do a couple tests for me, alright?”

“Okay,” Izuku agreed. Dr. Nishimura extended her arms, allowing him to use them as supports to jump off the table. He swayed in place, stumbling to try and keep his balance. The doctor kept her grip on him, keeping him upright even though his leg nearly crumpled beneath him.

“Alright, do you think you can do a couple walking tests?”

“Um, yeah,” Izuku nodded, timid.

Dr. Nishimura smiled, removing her arms from his grip. He swayed and used the table to support his weight. She pointed towards a line made with masking tape on the ground. “Walk on the line as best as you can.”

He nodded, letting go of the table to limp over to the line. He placed one foot in front of the other, brow furrowing in concentration. He couldn’t help his limp as he went, nearly toppling over because his leg just refused to support him. He barely managed to keep his right leg on the line, and near the end (a whopping five steps), he stumbled off. Frustrated tears pricked in his eyes.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, Izuku,” Dr. Nishimura consoled, “you don’t even have to do the walk back, okay?”

Izuku nodded, eyes tearful, and limped back to the table. “Can you stand on your right leg for me?” Izuku complied, managing to keep his balance. “And the left?” Izuku shook his head.

“Okay, that’s fine,” she said, “can you at least try?”

Izuku felt a tear roll down his cheek before he could stop it. He shakily nodded, trying his best to support his weight on his left leg.

“Here, I’ll stand next to you in case you fall,” the doctor offered, arms extended out in case he needed support. Izuku sniffled and tried his best to balance on his left leg. Unfortunately, but not unpredictably, his left leg crumpled beneath him and nearly sent him sprawling face-first into the floor. Dr. Nishimura caught him before he did and lifted him back onto the table. “Just a minute, Izuku,” she smiled, going back to type on her computer.

Izuku looked tearfully down at his mom, searching desperately for comfort. He felt childish, looking for his mom’s love, but he was so frustrated and overwhelmed and his leg hurt so much and there was a weird tingling and he was tired and he wanted to go home-

His mom rested her hand on his knee, squeezing firmly. Izuku’s racing thoughts came to a halt. Dr. Nishimura’s fingers- claws? Paws?- clicked against the keyboard. The clock ticked away above the door.

“Alright Izuku, just one more test, then I promise we’re done,” Dr. Nishimura said, standing from the computer. “Can you flex your right hip for me?” She rested a hand- paw?- on his left leg, settling it into a specific position.

It took a couple tries, but Izuku managed to do what she asked. Her eyebrows raised when he did, and she nodded. “Alright, that’s it!” she said, patting his leg and going back to her computer.

Izuku and his mom waited a few minutes before she finished typing. “Alright,” she began, twisting her swivel chair around to face him and his mom, “now, I’m fairly certain I know what’s wrong with Izuku.”

“You do?” his mom’s eyes widened, something akin to hope gleaming in them.

“I’m going to order an MRI just to make sure we didn’t miss anything, but I’m fairly certain Izuku has what’s known as Functional Neurological Disorder.”

“What’s that?” Izuku asked, eyes flickering from his mom, then to the doctor, then back at his mom.

“FND is a disorder that causes a wide array of symptoms,” Dr. Nishimura explained, “it causes a miscommunication somewhere in your nervous system, between your brain and your body. It can cause weakness, pain, seizures, altered sensory experiences, and, like you’ve been experiencing, partial paralysis.”

“Wh- um, what can we do about it?” his mom asked, hand grappling to hold onto Izuku’s.

“Well, we have to get the MRI done first to make sure nothing else is causing his symptoms,” Dr. Nishimura said, crossing one leg over the other, “but if it is FND, the prognosis is good. Typically symptoms get better over time on their own. We could prescribe some pain medications and you might be able to get a pair of prescription lenses, and mobility aids would certainly help as well, but there’s not much we can do aside from waiting.”

“Is it dangerous at all?” his mom asked. Izuku squeezed her hand.

“Not usually,” she said, “especially since Izuku isn’t having seizures. He just needs to be careful that he doesn’t injure himself. Now, I’ll order that MRI for you guys, and Nurse Emile will wrap up the appointment, okay?”

“Alright,” his mom nodded. She stood, hand unclasping from Izuku’s, and reached out to shake Dr. Nishimura’s hand. “Thank you so much. I- I can’t tell you how grateful I am. So many doctors have discriminated against him, and- and-”

“It’s no issue, Midoriya-san,” Dr. Nishimura smiled, “what kind of doctor would I be if I refused to believe a patient for something they can’t control?”

And, well- Izuku teared up at that one. Nobody had ever been so nice to him- no authority figure that wasn’t his mom or Kiko-san, that was.

“The nurse will be in to see you in a few minutes,” Dr. Nishimura reassured, “have a good day Izuku, Midoriya-san.”

The door closed behind her, and Izuku took a moment to stare at his mom.

Both mother and son sat in relieved disbelief- a professional that didn’t accuse Izuku of making everything up was a rarity, after all.

Izuku left his neurology appointment with a prescription for basic pain medication and an appointment for an MRI and a vision test.

He’d just received bad news, and yet he couldn’t help but feel hopeful.

.

.

.

Izuku rolled up to UA thirty minutes early on his first day- both metaphorically and physically, seeing as he was in a wheelchair. Sure, he could have used his crutches or braces, but he wanted to save his strength for heroics training later.

Gosh, heroics training- after eleven years of longing to be a hero, Izuku had finally taken the first step.

Well- the first hobble, he supposed.

He took a deep breath, squinting against the sunlight to stare at the front gate of the school, and wheeled himself inside.

He ignored the stares he got from the other students on his way in. He was used to them by now, especially when he had to get up out of his wheelchair in public. Not everyone seemed to know that some people in wheelchairs could actually physically walk, and certainly not a lot of people respected that.

It didn’t matter anyways- Izuku had a quirk now. It was a miracle, really. He’d flung himself at the sludge villain, abandoning his crutches and throwing his backpack at the villain’s weak point with a prayer and a sob, and somehow All Might had noticed.

Somehow, All Might, even after telling him that he couldn’t be a hero, saw him, a quirkless, disabled, useless fourteen year old, and wanted to make him his successor.

It was something you’d see in an anime or something- it wasn’t supposed to happen, but it did. Izuku never thought that he’d be able to be a hero with his disabilities, but according to All Might, he could get equipment from support gear agencies to help him out.

According to All Might, there were tons of disabled heroes- Present Mic, Ectoplasm, and many, many others had disabilities, both physical and mental- just because Izuku’s leg and arm didn’t work properly, he explained, that didn’t mean he couldn’t be a hero.

Izuku was so, so grateful to his mentor for everything he’d done. All Might accepted him, disability and all, and thought he was strong- not in an “inspiration porn” type of way, no, but he genuinely, honestly thought he was strong.

It was a nice change from the people who’d told Izuku he was useless and weak his entire life.

As much as Izuku would have liked to reminisce over what had happened only a few months ago, he had to get to class soon, and he had no idea how to get there.

He wheeled himself inside the school and looked at the map in his lap, frowning when he didn’t see an icon for an elevator anywhere. Surely UA was accessible, right? The number one hero academy couldn’t not have an elevator.

He shook his head, looking around for a teacher. He located someone- not a teacher, but a student, tall with black hair and pointed ears. He looked older, maybe around his second or third year, and Izuku frowned at the way he cowered off to the side, eyes frantically scanning the halls for something or someone.

“Um, ex-ex-excuse me?”

“Ah!” the upperclassman nearly shrieked, flinching.

“I’m so sorry!” Izuku bowed as best as he could from his wheelchair, “I-I-I jus-jusss-just wanna know where the el-el-el-elll-elevator is!”

The student blinked, dark eyes going from blown-open to semi-relaxed in a matter of seconds.

“Um, down-down the hall,” the student stuttered softly, shifting his legs awkwardly. He pointed to Izuku’s right. “It’s by Class 3-A.”

“Th-thank you!” Izuku bowed again, turning his chair to wheel off. His cheeks burned from the awkwardness of the interaction, but thank god UA at least had an elevator he could use.

It took a few minutes of searching, but he eventually found it- Class 1-A. He stared up at the door, breath taken away.

“The door is huge!” he shouted, then slapped a hand over his mouth.

He took a deep breath, calming himself, and pushed the door open.

“Excuse me! Take your feet off the desk! Heroes have sat here before you! Scuffing up the desks is disrespectful!”

Oh, it was the glasses boy from the entrance exam.

Izuku turned his gaze to the person the boy was yelling at.

...which just happened to be Kacchan.

Izuku blinked and tried to wheel himself inside as quietly as he could, trying not to attract unwanted attention to himself. His efforts proved to be in vain, though. He relied on automatic doors, something that the front entrance had, but the classroom doors lacked. He could only manage to get it propped open with his right hand before it slammed shut and forced him back outside.

He stared the door down as if that would do anything. Frustrated tears pricked at his eyes. God, why did he think UA would be any different in terms of accessibility? Just because they had an elevator didn’t mean that the entire school would be accessible to him.

He sat outside the classroom, not attempting to push open the door again, until-

“Oh! You’re the curly-haired boy from the entrance exam!”

Izuku whipped his head around, eyes wide. He hadn’t even heard her approach! Maybe he needed his hearing checked, too.

“U-um-”

“I don’t remember you being in a wheelchair,” she tilted her head.

“A-ah, I pr-prefer the chair when I’m not doing anything str-str-str-strenuous,” he choked out, cheeks flushed from his nose up to the tips of his ears.

“You’re in a wheelchair but you can walk?”

“Um-”

“Oh! Right! How rude of me!” she fumbled awkwardly, “I’m Uraraka Ochako! You’re… Deku, right?”

“Um- can you get the door, please?”

“Oh- sure!”

Uraraka propped open the door, letting him wheel inside at last. He breathed a sigh of relief and checked his schedule for his class number. He counted the desks and found desk number eighteen. He frowned at his next obstacle- wheeling himself between the narrow rows between the desks.

A couple students bore their eyes into Izuku, and he suddenly felt much more self-conscious than he had before. “Deku?! How the fuck did you get in?!”

“A-ah, Kach-Kach-Kacchan! I- I-”

“You’re Midoriya!” one of the students- a boy with bright red hair- gasped, bounding up to Izuku. “Dude, you’re the guy that destroyed the zero-pointer!”

“Woah, really?!” another student- one with yellow hair and a black lightning bolt through his bangs- piped up.

“Um-”

“Midoriya!” glasses boy exclaimed, hand-chopping the air, “I apologize! I underestimated you during the entrance exam! You managed to figure out that there are rescue points- even I couldn’t figure that out!”

“Um-” Izuku stuttered for probably the eighteenth time, “y-yeah, I guess.”

“Dude, that’s so cool!” red hair cheered, pumping a fist into the air. Izuku squirmed in discomfort.

“If you’re just here to make friends, you can leave.”

Izuku and the other students turned down to look at the new presence.

It was a man with a scraggly beard and greasy, unkempt hair… laying on the floor… in a yellow sleeping bag... sucking on a juice pouch. “It took you seven seconds to quiet down. That’s unacceptable.”

The man stood, unzipping the sleeping bag, and trudged into the classroom, dragging the yellow sack behind him. He stood behind the podium and hunched over, burying his nose into his scarf.

“I’m Aizawa. I’ll be your homeroom teacher this year. Sit down.”

The students scrambled to their seats, leaving Izuku awkwardly near the front. Aizawa frowned.

“Midoriya, is it?” Izuku gulped, but nodded. “See me after homeroom. Everyone in the second row, push your desk slightly to the right.”

The class complied, the five students in the second row pushing their desks aside to make room for Izuku. He wheeled himself over to his seat, gulping down a fresh wave of anxiety, and stared at the chair behind his desk. A student behind him- a girl with a high black ponytail- pulled his chair out for him and pushed it to the back of the classroom. Izuku shot her a grateful look and settled himself behind his desk.

He frowned. The desk was a little too tall for his wheelchair, but he could make do with writing his notes in his lap. It was nothing he couldn’t work around.

Aizawa introduced himself to the class, not bothering to say whether he was a pro-hero, what his quirk was, what his alias was, or basically anything about him other than his name. He sped through homeroom rather quickly, then told the students that they’d be skipping orientation to do an introduction exercise, and to go change into their gym uniforms.

Aizawa shot Izuku a pointed look, wordlessly reminding him to stay behind after class. Izuku gulped again, but stayed put, watching the rest of the class file out. Uraraka shot him a sympathetic look as she went, leaving a weird feeling in Izuku’s stomach.

Aizawa walked over to Izuku’s desk, sitting down on top of Kacchan’s desk to face him. The man stared at Izuku for a solid ten seconds.

“Um, wh-what is this about, Sensei?”

“Your file never mentioned anything about a wheelchair.”

“O-oh,” Izuku deflated- great, another person who was going to say he wasn’t cut out to be a hero. “I’m an ambulatory wheelchair user- ah, that means I use-use-use a wh-wh-wheelchair when I can and walk-walk-wallllk whenever I can’t.”

“Could you tell me what we’re working with here?”

That was a surprisingly-nicely-worded question. Izuku blinked. “Ah, I have FND- F-ffff-Functional Neuro-Neurological Disorder. It causes a lot of problems, but I swear I can get support gear to help with it-”

“I’m not concerned about that,” Aizawa leveled his glare, “I just want to know what I’m working with. Your time here needs to be as accessible as possible.”

Oh- Izuku wasn’t expecting that.

“Um, d-do you need specifics?”

“That would be logical, yes.”

“W-well,” Izuku glanced off to the side, “I have partial vision loss- it’s not bad, I wear contacts to help- partial l-llll-loss of smell, par-par-partial p-p-pa-paralysis in the left side of my body, and a st-st-stutter.”

“Anything else?”

“Orthostatic Hypotension,” Izuku shrugged, “b-but that just means I g-g-get lightheaded when I go from si-sit-sit-sitting to st-st-stan-standing or fr-”

“I know what that is, kid,” Aizawa sighed, running a hand through his greasy locks, “so, your paralysis is going to be the most difficult to work around, but we can certainly find support gear. I don’t recall you using a wheelchair during the entrance exam, though.”

“I-I use braces and cr-cr-crutches, too.”

“Any other aids?”

“Um- compression clothing,” Izuku answered, anxiety now slightly lessened, “but that-that-that’s about it.”

“And accessibility-wise, have you had difficulties today?”

“Um, no,” he ducked his head, “I mean- well- I can-can-cannn-can’t get into the classroom on-on-on my own.”

Aizawa furrowed his brow, emotions carefully tucked away. “I’ll ask about a button to automatically open the door. Anything else?”

“N-no sir.”

“Midoriya,” Aizawa leveled his gaze, “it’s UA’s job to make sure you’re able to get around. Nedzu won’t see any of this as a problem.”

Izuku blinked- why was his teacher being so nice to him? Teachers only brought Izuku down with their harsh remarks, bitter accusations, and their tolerance for bullying. They weren’t supposed to care about him, let alone enough to make sure he had accommodations, right?

“Um-”

“I don’t know what’s going through your head right now,” Aizawa sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “but you’re allowed to ask for accommodations.”

“Oh,” Izuku turned away, fidgeting slightly, “um… I guess handrails on the walls? Th-that would help when I use my cr-cr-crutches.”

“Sure,” Aizawa nodded, “anything else?”

“N-no, sir.”

“Alright,” the man sighed, slinking off the desk as if he were a cat, “let me know if you think of anything else.”

“O-okay, Aizawa-sensei.”

Aizawa looked exasperated. “You know where the locker rooms are?”

“Ah- y-yes, sir. I h-have a ma-map.”

“Good. Get down there with the rest of your class.”

Izuku nodded, bowing as best as he could, and wheeled out of the classroom. The locker rooms were surprisingly accessible- the door was propped open so he had no problem getting inside, and the locks on the lockers were surprisingly low. Izuku tried his best to ignore the pointed stares from his classmates, ducking into a back corner to get changed.

He stood from his wheelchair to pull on his gym uniform, only struggling for a moment with his pants. He limped back over to his locker, supporting his weight on the lockers as he went, and retrieved his forearm crutches from inside. He slipped his arms inside, letting out a little sigh of relief at the added support. He checked his knee brace, making sure it was on snugly, and closed his locker.

“Woah! You can walk?!” a student, somehow smaller than Izuku, with purple balls on his head shouted.

Izuku winced. “Um…”

“What arethose?” the student lisped, “some kind of weapon?”

“N-no, they’re-”

“Excuse me!” glasses boy- Izuku remembered him introducing himself as Iida- announced, “class will be starting soon! Please do not interrogate Midoriya!”

Izuku sent a grateful look towards his classmate and hobbled out after him as quickly as he could without slipping.

“Midoriya-kun!” Iida hand-chopped the air as they went, “I don’t believe we had time to properly convene before homeroom!”

“N-no, I don’t th-thhh-think so, Iida-kun.” Izuku winced at the loud noise.

“I must say, I doubted you at first-” Izuku sank down into himself at that. “-but you have proven me wrong! You’re much more capable than I am, even in spite of your hindrances!”

“Y-yyy-y-you mean my disabilities?” Izuku couldn’t help the stinging distaste that came with Iida’s wording.

“Ah- if that’s what you prefer to call it!”

“I-I mean…”

“Deku-kun!” Uraraka jogged up from behind, catching up with the little group.

“U-Ura-Ura-Urr-Ura- is there a nickname I can use?” Izuku flushed.

“You can call me Ochako, if that’s easier!”

“Oh, um- okay, Och-Och-Ochako-san. A-also, D-Deku isn’t my name.”

“It isn’t?” Uraraka- Ochako- tilted her head.

“N-no, it’s Mid-Mid-Midoriya.”

“Oh. I just heard that angry blond boy calling you that!”

“Ah, it’s an in-insss-insult,” Izuku blushed.

“Really?” she blinked, “I thought it sounded kinda cute! Like ‘Dekiru!’ It gives off ‘you can do it’ vibes!”

Izuku blinked. “Deku it is!”

“But weren’t you just saying… that it’s an insult?” Iida gaped.

“I-”

“Oh shoot, we only have a minute to get there!” Ochako yelped, grabbing Iida to drag him along. Izuku breathed a sigh of relief when she didn’t attempt to grab his arm and limped after the two as quickly as he could.

It was strange, to say the least. It was only the first day, and two students were willing to tolerate him long enough to talk to him? And his teacher cared about accessibility? It was almost too good to be true. Izuku wondered when it would end.

Although, he was at UA now, so there was no telling what would happen. Certainly their anti-bullying policy was stricter than the one at Aldera, right?

He quickened his pace so he wouldn’t be late.

Maybe things would be better here. Only time would tell.