Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He woke up from the deepest slumber of his life.

His eyes opened slowly, the world still a blur before he blinked it into focus enough times, only for him to find that nothing he saw was familiar at all. The room he was in was spacious, not for being particularly large - it was simply very empty, oddly bare bones, and lacked any personality, any form of decoration. White walls nearly blinded him as his eyes opened further, one desk, a few shelves with nothing but generic books on them, and he did not recognize a single thing. 

‘Where am I?’ Was his very first thought.

As the fog of drowsiness started to dissipate, he lifted his head for a better look. The floor looked so far away. Had he always been this tall? Wait – he wasn’t even standing! Brows furrowing from pure confusion, he looked down and saw a long neck covered with curly green fur, and a pair of bird-like feet tucked under his chest. 

Turning his head to examine the rest of his body, he found that at some point below his chest, the green fur ended and that most of his body was covered in smooth white scales, only having fur again at the end of his long tail.

‘Since when have I had scales, fur, or a tail?’ He was sure he had to be going insane. How was it possible to not remember one’s own body?

Beginning to feel disturbed by the situation, he tried to stand from the mat he lay on, but as he attempted to balance his large body on his hind legs and take a step forward, they quivered and failed, and he crashed into the wooden floor with a loud sound. Was he not supposed to walk on two legs? It was his first instinct to try, but looking at it again, he had horse legs, and his body was quite long. Of course they couldn’t sustain his weight, what was he thinking?

With a faint groan, he pushed himself up again, this time trying to stand on all fours and succeeding. He still felt awkward, and it did not feel right or natural. He couldn’t even figure out how to walk, leaving him to stare at the black talons he had instead of hands, frozen solid in place for a time impossible to determine. 

What had happened the previous day, or the day before that? What brought him to wake up in an unknown place, in an unknown body?

Doubts and questions spun an endless cycle in his head, keeping him still like a statue until he was startled out of his trance with the sound of an opening door. Looking up, he was greeted with a person he did not recognize: a very tall man stood there with his hand still on the doorknob. It was slow, the way the man's smile grew the longer he looked at him with a glint in his eyes that made his fur raise and body crawl with a sense of wrongness that he couldn't evade.

With a few steps, he closed the distance between them, wrapping his arms around his neck. “I thought you would never wake up again…”

His jaw was tight as he grew increasingly uncomfortable and dazed. There was nothing warm or reassuring about the gesture, only a chill going down his spine, like a layer of ice forming over his scales, whenever fingers ran through his fleece in what should’ve been a show of affection. Was this person, who clearly knew him, and possibly knew what was wrong with him, supposed to be someone familiar to him?

“Where am I?” Were his first words since opening his eyes, and his voice were the first thing he actually recognized.

“Home, of course.”

“This doesn’t look like home.”

He was carefully released, but a hand remained on the side of his neck. “What is home supposed to look like, then?” 

“I don’t remember.” He concluded after briefly thinking about it. Even if he tried to point out what was wrong, what was supposed to be different, he couldn’t.

“Do you remember me?”

There was a long pause. He felt guilty when he finally shook his head.

“I feared so.” The lightest sigh followed his words, yet his tone was a little too exaggerated. “Well, all will be going back to normal soon, my son.”

Son?

He felt his heart tighten. Even his own father was erased from his memories? It made him feel terrible for being so uneasy about his presence, and yet, he did not feel any safer.

“What happened to me?”

His father’s red eyes were still intense, fixed on him. “It was terrible.” His voice lowered to a sorrowful volume, and a hand ran through his soft neck once more. “Villains attacked you and your mother. You were in a coma no one knew if you would wake up from.”

Villains… what villains? He remembered what the word meant, yet he could not associate it with a face. The story did not bring him any closer to remembering anything. “Why am I not in a hospital?”

The man’s eyebrow twitched, like he seemed ever so slightly annoyed that he asked. “You showed signs of waking up for brief moments before falling unconscious again, several times. They were suspicious you would have amnesia from the head trauma you suffered. The doctor recommended you wake at home, that it could help you remember a few things, but I see that method has proved useless.”

He let it sink for a while. “What about my mom?”

It was then that his expression darkened. Silence stretched for seconds. Then, the heavy answer: “She did not make it.”

It felt like a cold knife dug into his chest. His vision immediately blurred with tears forming in his eyes as a feeling of grief and despair shattered him from the inside. He could not remember her, or what she looked like, yet the feeling of losing his mother was unbelievably painful. A sob painfully ripped out of him as tears started to roll down his face.

“I know you and her were close.” He rested a hand on his snout, thumb brushing along his scales. “But I am here now.”

He didn’t know for how long he cried, but no amount of tears could wash away the feeling of loss. His father stayed with him the entire time, yet his gaze had grown colder the longer it took for him to be done grieving. By the time the downpour of tears became a light drizzle, and sniffles replaced wails, he was exhausted. He wanted nothing more than to lie down and sleep again. Not noticing this inconsolable state, or judging him to have calmed down enough, he closed his fingers around a handful of his fur and tugged, trying to encourage him to follow him to the door.

“Perhaps a walk will refresh your memories.”

He truly didn’t want to and refused to move for a few seconds. But the man’s foot tapped slowly on the floor, hinting at growing impatience, and he pulled on his fur again, less gently this time. He stood up, now knowing he had to balance himself in hands and feet, or rather talons and hooves. Initially, he was frozen, not even able to remember how to properly walk. 

Carefully, he lifted his right rear foot, taking one step forward. Next, right front. Then left rear, then left front. One step at a time, never having less than three feet on the floor at a time. Seeing this worked, he repeated the pattern. He was certain he looked ridiculous, but he was slowly but surely making his way to the door — only to hit the doorframe somehow, even though he was almost sure his head didn’t touch it. He crouched and walked through without issues the second time. 

His room was the furthest in a hallway with two other doors, one on each side. Going down led them into a living room, where the front door was. It was spacious, yet much like his room, uncomfortably empty. It lacked the feeling of a home. There was no TV, carpet, potted plants or framed pictures. There was a couch in front of a coffee table, but nowhere could he find a seat that looked like he could comfortably sit in. The walls were the same eyesore white as far as he could see. 

A little further was a dining table. In one of the chairs sat a young man who looked less than happy to be there. As they approached, red eyes glared at him with such palpable hatred he wondered whether he was supposed to apologize for some vile comment he didn’t remember making.

“Come on, Tomura. Say hello to your brother. Aren’t you happy he’s awake?”

Brother?! He had a brother? Well, the young man did look like their father - certainly more than he himself did. Both of them had red eyes and light hair, although their father’s was a snowier white than the ashen light blue of Tomura’s. Still, it wasn’t just the fact that he couldn’t recognize the other, it was that the eyes looking back at him weren’t of a caring family member. 

His brother looked at him like he wanted him gone.

“Hey.” He hissed the greeting as if even acknowledging him was repulsive. “Welcome back to the land of the living, Ikku.”

Their father’s brow furrowed as he shot Tomura a disapproving look. However, he was now more focused on the name. He hadn’t realized, or maybe not stopped to think about how, until this point, he hadn’t remembered his own name. “Ikku?” He echoed. It felt… half-right. Maybe that’s how it was supposed to feel when finally remembering something.

“That would be you.”  The older man returned his attention to him, a slightly amused smile replacing his previous scowl.

Ikku nodded slowly, currently trying to look at anything but his brother and the disconcerting way he stared at him. If looks could kill, he was sure he would’ve dropped by now. His eyes scanned the room for each detail, until he noticed a single piece of decoration on the wall that he hadn’t noticed at first glance.

There was a mirror.

Electing to ignore his family for a moment, he approached the looking glass to take a better glimpse of himself. 

He had a face that certainly matched his dragon-like body - a lizard’s head with a thin snout and a pair of large, curled horns. Ah, that explained why he hit the doorframe earlier. He didn’t remember he had those. Leaning a little closer still, he noticed there were several cracks on the scales around his eyes and mouth. He wondered if they were from the incident.

What was funny was that, although his body was entirely unfamiliar, he recognized the freckles across his face. His own big, vibrant green eyes as well. Considering those and his curly green fleece, he could only assume he took all of his mother’s looks. He wondered if she had a dragon quirk too - if she looked like a dragon, or could transform into one… looking at his own eyes made him want to cry all over again. He wanted to remember her.

“Come here, Little Beast.” His father’s voice derailed his train of thought before any new tears could fall. “Let’s get you something to eat.”

Every day felt the same in that house. Sometimes, Ikku barely noticed when one day became the next, granted he didn’t check the clock. The house didn’t have windows. Sometimes the air felt too heavy to breathe, and it always felt like there wasn’t enough space for him. His father was absent every night, and sometimes, so was Tomura. The only person who never left was his butler, who he would frequently be alone with.

Kurogiri was even more difficult to talk to than his brother, although, at least, it didn’t seem like he hated his presence. Not that he could tell, with the lack of expression on his misty face, or the eternally neutral tone of his voice. For two days, he interrogated the poor man while he did the dishes. Could he tell him about his mother? Where did his father go? Why did Tomura hate him? The answers were always vague, or there would be no answer at all, leaving him to dejectedly drag himself back to his room.

Every night, he felt like the boredom could kill him. Sometimes he felt too cold and fatigued to move. He paced around his room like a caged tiger, and explained it to himself as an exercise for his legs, as if he needed an excuse to try to distract himself. Sometimes he would simply tap the empty desk with his claws, trying to make music with the dull click-clacks he produced. Ikku constantly felt like there was something he needed to be doing, but maybe that was because he was never doing anything.

He had already asked about school. His father seemed annoyed that he even mentioned it. 

“Most children your age today are a bad influence, and teachers are even worse.”

“Why?”

“All they do is idolize heroes.” He sneered. “I shouldn’t have to explain to you why that isn’t good.”

Hero. It was the first time he mentioned the word, but it felt like finding a missing puzzle piece. Why did that single word bring him so much joy and passion? Why did he feel the urge to defend it, when he couldn’t associate it to anything, or anyone in particular? It was an abstract concept, with a meaning he could put only into words if needed. It warmed him up from the inside, and gave him the courage to continue questioning, much to his father’s displeasure.

“But I don’t understand. Aren’t heroes good? Aren’t they helping us?”

“They did not help you and your mother, Ikku. I did .”

Just like that, the warmth was drained.

“Your mother taught you everything you learned right here and it was all you needed.” He continued before more questions were asked. “If you ever have to learn something new, I will teach you. Do you understand?”

Ikku did not. He was sure he had to have been to school at some point in his life… he could feel in his heart that he had. There was something important about it clawing at the back of his mind, begging to be remembered. He felt lied to. 

A few more times over the course of the week, he kept asking Hisashi if he was sure, until one day, with the most pitiful expression, his father sighed.

“That day really messed with your head.”

It was hard to continue questioning him afterwards. 

Ikku tried to tell himself that he was probably right. Perhaps the amnesia itself wouldn’t allow him to believe most of what he heard, and would make him continue to feel like none of this was right. This insistent anxiety could be a normal part of the process, or a lasting effect from the head trauma. If he was patient, all could heal.

And yet, in the depths of his soul, he felt that whatever the truth was, he was not safe here.

It was about the time that his father left the house for work, whatever it was that he did. Izuku hurried down the corridor, proud of himself for being able to trot by now. He reached the living room as his father’s hand was just beginning to twist the doorknob. “Wait! Can I follow you outside a little? I promise I will—”

“No.” His response was sudden and severe, without him so much as turning his head to look at him. Izuku immediately fell silent, like invisible hands forced his mouth shut. He had never heard him speak in that tone, but it still instilled fear in him like he knew it meant something bad.

The room suddenly felt cold. Ikku only realized he was holding his breath after a few seconds, letting it out in a slow, silent exhale. His father turned his face slightly towards him, just enough to stare. Red eyes seemed to judge him, his expression indecipherable.

“It’s not safe for you, cub.”

A sound like a whine escaped his lips before any words did. “ Please . Just once. I can’t be here forever.”

“We don’t go out of this house unless strictly necessary.”

“What about doing things as a family?”

“I find it hard to understand…”  Hisashi’s tone was eerie. “How can a son of mine be so foolish.”

Ikku flinched. It made his scales bristle up like a cat’s fur would. “What?”

“You don’t understand? Doing things as a family was the exact same excuse you and your mother gave to leave this house. I warned you against it, and look what happened.”

His mouth snapped shut again. A pressure fell upon him, like the ceiling was slowly coming down to crush him.

“What do you think waits for you out there, Ikku?”

He couldn’t respond. He didn’t know. He didn’t remember. He simply felt like it was important, but he could not put it into words. What could possibly exist outside this prison of a home that was so vile and dangerous?

“I will tell you: out there, people will hurt you. Heroes will look away, unless rescuing you is profitable.” He tilted his head to the side. “Just like they looked away when you and your mother were being attacked.”

His heart drummed loudly in his chest, almost distracting. 

“We don’t want history to repeat itself, do we?” Hisashi’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You were fortunate to survive. That all of your limbs are intact and you can still speak are nothing short of miracles. You lost your memories this time, but trust me, Little Beast…”

Ikku shrunk under his intense glare, lowering his head slowly as his tail curled around his bent legs. He felt like his blood itself was going to freeze. His father took one step closer and took his chin in one hand. It wasn’t a tight grip, but it was not tender by any means. It was warmer than his scales, but it still sent a chill down his spine.

“... it could be so much worse next time.”

Ikku tried to swallow the lump in his throat. “I understand.”

The hand released him, and he stepped back. Hisashi looked at him up and down, as if examining how much he believed his meek words. He briefly eyed something behind him before he spun on his heel and headed to the door, only opening it enough for him to walk out, glancing at his son before closing it, clicking it locked from the outside.

Come to think of it, he had never seen what was outside that door.

After a significantly long moment of stunned silence, Ikku raised his head and looked behind him. Monitoring him was Kurogiri, still as a statue save for the constant flow of his cloudy shape. The guy never gave him a reason to think he was dangerous, yet he still gave him the creeps. Something about how he moved and talked was a little lifeless, a little robotic. 

“You should listen to your father, Ikku Shigaraki.” That was always what he said, for almost every good question the boy was left without answers for. It always felt like an ominous warning more than advice, and never failed to send chills down his spine.

They had a staring contest for an entire minute. He was waiting for Kurogiri to move, but it seemed like the latter had the same intention. He always felt watched by him whenever he wasn’t cooped up in his own room. Did he think he was going to try to run away? Did he know he was going to try to run away? Could he tell from his body language alone that he was horrified? That everything about this place, from the moment he woke up, felt wrong? 

Did he feel the same way? 

“Hey, Kurogiri-san…” Trying to allow himself to relax, he stood up properly, uncurling his tail. He turned around and walked towards the butler instead of away. “Could you make me a cup of tea, please? Chamomile helped me feel calmer last time.”

To his relief and slight surprise, he did move. Ikku had never tried asking him for anything before. He had always simply shown gratitude for what was offered, such as an entire jar of calming tea after crying for a little too long, or waited for his father or Tomura to throw orders to the mysterious man. He was always afraid he would not listen to him, a feeling he chalked up to being the youngest and having the least authority in the house.

He followed him halfway to the kitchen, stopping near the table as if he was going to sit. Then he waited for him to be occupied and not looking his way. He felt a certain tightness in his chest, partially guilt for lying, and partially from a feeling that this was a bad idea. 

Where was he even planning to run off to? He did not have any more family that he was aware of. He did not have any friends that he could remember. He did not have another home to welcome him.

Would anyone save him, if he asked for help?

It did not take long to come to the conclusion that anything had to be better than staying . He couldn’t bear the thought of another day in this vaguely house-shaped prison. Of being left in the dark, denied answers and sunlight. Alone, confused, and grieving.

There was something he needed to chase, and he felt like his father was actively trying to prevent him, to suppress this quiet flame that burned in his chest. He could not understand why. Ikku was aware he might be doing something stupid for the sake of rebellion, and that there was always the chance his father’s warnings were all true. Still, inside him, there was something missing. A place, an action, a buried dream. Someone besides his mother. There was something screaming at the back of his head, telling him he needed to run, that he was not safe.

He couldn’t ignore it, not anymore.

When he guessed Kurogiri was distracted enough, he started to back away, trying to sneak back into the living room. To his dismay, he had not considered one detail: no matter how slowly and lightly he tried to move, his hooves, claws, and even the movement of his scales, were never going to be quiet enough. Before he got much further, the butler had noticed.

Ikku knew he didn’t have much time, and that the door was locked. But he remembered one thing: he had horns, and they had to be there for a reason. Bowing his head down and hoping his aim was right, he ran as fast as he could, all muscles tense as he rammed hard into wood and thankfully broke through it with one hit. He could feel his body scrape through the rough edges of the hole he created, but his scales were completely undamaged.

It was the first time he saw the outside since waking up, and it was breathtaking. A quiet forest greeted him, but there was no time to admire the view or take in the scent of flowers. He knew he needed to run.

Running was a different movement pattern from walking or trotting, and he hadn’t had time to prepare himself for it. He could feel his tail whipping up and down, hitting the floor as he moved his limbs at full speed. Trying to dodge a tree on his way, he missed a step, and the small mistake sent him tumbling on the grass. Not a second later he noticed a whirlpool of black mist was forming just under him, and he immediately stood again, barely jumping over it before the darkness could swallow him.

Ikku continued to dash through the woods, fearing he would be caught if he stopped, or even slowed down for a second. He was more careful when making turns from them on. Although his body and tail still hit several trees as he zig-zagged through them, he did not fall again, and that was all that mattered. He hoped he had lost Kurogiri and prayed to not come across his father.

Ikku did not know where to go, or what he would do.

But he had no other choice but to run.

Chapter Text

   The grass, dirt, and rocks beneath Ikku’s paws felt uncomfortable at times. The ground was uneven, and the forest offered lots of obstacles to test his agility. Looking back was risky, and he couldn’t stop or slow down until he was sure he was safe. At one point he had to jump over a small river and his hooves slipped on the mud, but he regained his balance quickly and kept running, heart banging hard against his ribs. Ikku had no way of knowing if he was going in the right direction, if he was approaching or distancing himself from civilization, or if he was moving to or away from help.

   But after minutes of galloping, the woods turned sparse and he found something that would fill him with hope and relief: walls. Buildings. It was only when he had found his way to a city that he realized he had nowhere to go, and wasn’t sure how to seek help. Still running, now lost in his thoughts, passing through an alley, he arrived in the middle of a street that turned out to be busier than he had predicted. A car honked and startled him, making him jump in fright.

   Despite his effort to reach the sidewalk fast enough, the end of his tail was still run over and Ikku shrieked in pain, whipping around so quickly that his body hit something he couldn’t see. He continued to run, too frightened at this point to think straight. He heard an angry shout behind him, and as he was turning his head to look, his head went through something solid, and he was only slightly slowed down before he heard two metallic snaps just behind his ears.

   Ikku stopped abruptly, almost falling over, and tried to look himself over to understand the problem. There was something struck around his neck - a sign with what looked to be a store name. Looking up and back, he saw a support bar and a pair of chains where it had previously been hanging. Well, this is embarrassing…

   "Hey, you!” The angry voice from before caught up to him. A middle-aged man with a scowl, slightly breathless from the chase, stopped a few feet away from Ikku but still needed to look up to meet his eyes. He looked nervous, cautious besides the obvious anger, and pointed to where he had just come from. “You knocked over my fruit stand!”

   He flinched, cringing with embarrassment and guilt when he understood the damage he was causing. “I’m sorry, sir! I promise I’ll go fix it, just… let me get this off…”

   Ikku tried to grab the sign with one of his paws, managing to hook one claw around the frame. He pulled it down in an attempt to break it so it would come off, but all it did was hurt the back of his neck. When that proved useless, he tried to displace it with a violent shake of his head. However, without good awareness of his horns, he ended up hitting a glass wall next to him, the sound of it shattering followed by a deafening alarm.

   He completely froze then, eyes wide as he stared at his new mistake. A window broken wide open, shards of glass uncomfortably close to his paws. He wasn’t sure how to even begin apologizing now, or if it would have been enough.

   “What the hell is wrong with you?!” Someone yelled, and Ikku dropped his head low to the ground in shame as he realized the extent of the mess he made. A person came out of the building he had accidentally broken into, looking even more furious than the first man.

   “Is that a villain?” A frightened voice yelled from the other side of the street.

   “Holy shit, it is!”

   He saw a toddler scream and hide behind her father, who also looked at him with terror in his eyes.

   “He looks dangerous!”

   “Someone call a hero!”

   Ikku froze, his heart sinking further. “I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean to—”

   “Don’t fear…”

   That voice. Something about it was incredibly familiar. It sent a shiver down his spine, but not in a bad way. He raised his head in the direction of the sound, and…

   “… for I am here!”

   And then something landed right in front of him, the impact making the earth tremble beneath his feet. A man, incredibly muscular and tall - one of the few people to come close to being on eye level with him so far. There was a faint glimpse of blue irises in the shadow of his eyes, and they were focused on him. He had his fists raised, ready to battle what he was led to assume was a villain wreaking havoc.

   People cheered around them. Among the indistinguishable shouts of victory, he only made out: “All Might is here!”

   The world around them became quiet, faded, like time stopped and nothing else existed. Ikku’s heart beat faster, because faint shards of his memory poked painfully at the front of his mind as he took it all in. The pattern, the colors, this entire costume was familiar. Familiar.

   He knew… All Might.

   The yellow hair with a pair of antennae pointing at the sky. The grin. The way he stood, even the stance felt like something he had seen before. More than once, even. Something that he would have studied extensively. For what reason? He didn’t know, he couldn’t remember that far, but for the first time since waking up, he recognized something. Where did he know him from? Had he ever seen him personally before? It was extremely important, as important as breathing, he tried desperately to recall the details, but they remained locked away.

   Hero. This was a hero. He remembered how the word made him feel before, how it warmed his heart, inspired him, made him almost giddy. Now he felt something similar, but in the place of an unexplained joy there was only pure awe.

   The hero’s battle stance slowly lowered to a more defensive one as Ikku spent what must have been an entire minute staring at him, looking dumbfounded with bug eyes and jaw agape, half-mouthing something in unintelligible mumbles.

   “So?”

   Ikku only then remembered that he had a sign stuck around his neck, and that he probably looked really stupid. He blinked, finally, as he snapped out of the weird trance. Looking around, he saw slightly confused people who were expecting a battle to break out.

   “You… you’re…” he stammered, trying to find words.

   Though the hero’s smile never changed, he raised an eyebrow, cocking his head to the side.

   “I don’t remember… but I do… oh… jeez… I…”

   All Might was still wary, but fully dropped his arms, watching him break down.

   Soon, tears formed in Ikku’s eyes and rolled down his face. He sank closer to the ground, trying not to appear like a threat. “I’m so sorry,” he sobbed, “I didn’t mean to make a mess or hurt anyone.”

   “Hey, hey. Be calm, young man. What is your name?”

   “Ikku. I think. I’m not sure about it.”

   The hero’s brow furrowed slightly then. “Why would that be?”

   He paused, tucking his tail under his body. “It’s… complicated.”

   “How old are you?”

   Ikku, once again, had to think about it. He didn’t have any memories to go off of, couldn’t remember what number was on his last birthday cake. He still lived with his parents, and something told him that he had never been to college or held a job, so… “Uhm… fourteen, maybe? I can’t remember.”

   “You can’t remember?” He was understandably puzzled by the answer. Ikku just nodded. “What about your parents, then?”

   “I ran away from my father. Something wasn’t right there… please don’t make me go back.”

   All Might had a moment of silence as well, seeming to analyze him, and carefully consider how to proceed. “Are you hurt?”

   “A little, I think?” He looked at the end of his tail, which had been run over just a few minutes before. It hurt in the moment, but the pain was gone already. There didn’t seem to be any damage, even the scales were intact, if a bit dirty from the tires. “Or not… it’s fine.”

   “Alright.” The man’s voice lowered to a comforting, softer tone. “I’ll still take you to a hospital for a check, if you promise not to knock any more people over or break anything.”

   With his gaze lowering to the pavement and paws shifting uncomfortably in place, he nodded. “I’m sorry. It really was an accident.”

   “I believe you, young man. Will you let me take that off your neck?”

   “Please.” He pleaded, craning his neck up to let the hero reach the sign. His hands tore the frame effortlessly and tossed the broken pieces on the ground. Ikku sighed with relief.

   All Might stepped away from him and addressed the people on the sidewalk, letting his voice return to a booming, confident tone. “Don’t worry, everyone! I’ve got this under control. You will be compensated for any damages here. I hope you can forgive this young man for the accident.”

   From the corner of his eye - because he was too mortified to look anyone in the eye - he saw the crowd exchange puzzled glances, but begin to disperse as if the man’s reassurance was all they needed to return to their normal day.

   They didn’t call for a car ride, since they agreed Ikku probably wouldn’t fit in anything smaller than a truck, so Ikku followed All Might quietly to a hospital. The walk was slow and mostly in silence, passing by people who didn’t know whether to be more shocked at the sight of All Might or the odd fellow following him.

   People were even more shocked when the pair of them walked into the hospital. Suddenly, all eyes were on them, and Ikku’s ears twitched as he heard whispers all around. He stayed behind while All Might walked straight to the front desk, where a receptionist looked with wide eyes between the two.

   All Might explained what he knew of the confusion, and Ikku introduced himself with the only name he had to call himself. Soon, he had to be seen by a doctor and a nurse in a separate room, and the hero wasn’t with him for that. He really wanted to ask where he was and if he was coming back, but he was showered with questions the entire time the medical team looked him over and debated over how to properly examine his strange anatomy.

   After a series of tests that felt like they lasted a whole day, they washed his paws of all dirt and transferred him into a private room where he could finally rest. They gave him the largest bed they had, and even then, his tail didn’t fit and dangled from the edge, half of it resting on the ground. He didn’t mind it too much.

   Ikku felt exhausted. The running, the accident, memories trying to surface, all of it weighed down on him as he closed his eyes. His head hurt badly anytime he thought about All Might too hard, trying to remember anything solid. The most that came to mind were the giggles of two children, and even that made him hiss in pain.

   After a few more minutes alone, as he was almost drifting off to sleep, he heard a small cough coming from outside before the door to his room slid open and he walked in. “Are you feeling alright, young man?”

   Ikku opened his eyes, lifting his head from the pillow to see the familiar man peeking his head inside. “I’m fine.”

   “I have a detective friend with me. Would you mind if he asks you a few questions?”

   He sat up. “I’ll answer with as much as I can remember.”

   All Might nodded and took a seat next to his bed, the chair barely big enough for his size. After him, a man with short hair walked in and greeted him with a smile.

   “Hello, Ikku. My name is Naomasa Tsukauchi.” He introduced himself as he took a place standing next to the hero. “To start, can you tell me what happened? What made you decide to run away from your home?”

   Ikku swallowed dryly. He was aware of how absurd it all sounded, even to himself. It took him a moment to think how he could even begin to tell his odd story. “I woke up one day without any memories. I couldn’t remember my own name, where I was, I-I didn’t even remember how to walk!”

   Naomasa’s brow knitted as he typed notes into a tablet, but he nodded, concerned but understanding, encouraging him to continue.

   “There was this man who greeted me almost as soon as I got up. He said he was my father, but I… didn’t feel like he was familiar at all.” The end of his tail bumped into the leg of a table, making him pause as he realized he had been moving it without thinking. With a small shake of his head, he focused once more. “I got the sense that something was wrong because some things, very small ones here and there, brought me a sense of familiarity, but he didn’t.”

   “And you think he lied about your name too.”

   “Yes!” Ikku nodded urgently. “And I just started to feel more and more scared as time went on. I didn’t know what I was scared of, but everything about it felt…”

   He trailed off, looking down at his own talons. What word could he use to describe it? Suspicious was one, but didn’t feel strong enough. Intimidated also fit, but it was more than that. It was like everything his “father” said felt like the opposite of what he expected to hear. Like he was—

   “… wrong.”

   “All of that sounds really stressful.” All Might leaned forward.

   Ikku nodded slowly. He allowed his body to relax some, only realizing how tense he had been when he let out a heavy sigh.

   “If it’s not too much, could you describe what the man looked like?” The detective prodded.

   Ikku lifted a paw, like he intended to scratch his chin, only to realize he couldn’t reach it. He wasn’t sure why he tried in the first place, as if it came naturally to him when it shouldn’t. “He was tall and strong. Had short, white hair. Red eyes. I don’t know for sure how old he looked… maybe around fifties?”

   At his description, the hero seemed to grow more and more tense, his smile almost fading. Naomasa paled just enough for it to be noticeable, and he exchanged a tense glance with All Might before focusing on him again. Though neither said anything, the look in their eyes told Ikku that the situation was much more serious than he would have initially thought.

   “I see. Thank you.” The detective walked to the side as he continued to type on his device.

   “Right, young Ikku. Here’s what we’re going to do.” All Might stood up. “We will arrange temporary accommodations and a caretaker for you, and we’ll have some samples of your DNA taken for tests. Hopefully we can trace you back to your forgotten identity, and perhaps to someone else who can take care of you. Is that alright?”

   “Yeah.”

   The hero grinned brightly at him once more. “Great! In that case, we will be going. Don’t worry about anything, you’re in good hands.”

   Before he could reach the door, Ikku called out. “Wait! I-I need to ask something else!”

   Both stopped and looked at him inquisitively.

   “I don’t know how to explain this, but I feel… I feel like I definitely know you.” He tried to explain, speaking slowly and too nervous to look into his eyes. “You’re one of the few people that have felt familiar to me since I woke up.”

   The hero smiled brighter and he let out a hearty laugh. “I take it you were a fan, then!”

   Ikku cocked his head to the side. That felt right. “W-will we talk again? There’s so much more I want to ask.”

   All Might gave him a nod. “I promise I’ll personally go see you when we have some answers.”

   He smiled at that.

   Toshinori couldn’t stop thinking about the encounter, even as days turned into a week.

   He had many other duties to worry about. Sure, most of his work had been relatively easy lately, most villains not lasting more than five minutes before being defeated and taken away by the police, but he was still busy between that, adjusting to his new residence at Musutafu, and preparing to become a teacher. Besides, he was assured that Ikku was safe, comfortable and supervised at all times in a house big enough for him to comfortably move around. He paid for it out of pocket.

   And yet, even with so many things to worry about, his mind went back to the confused and lost giant dragon boy. The case was already quite odd and worrisome on its own - someone waking up without memories and in the house of a kidnapper claiming to be a family member - but what made Toshinori lose sleep more than anything else was the description of Ikku’s “father” a description that matched someone who shouldn’t be around anymore, and the circumstances around it were…

   Toshinori kept shaking the thought off. There were surely many people matching that physical description in the modern age of quirks, and it wouldn’t be too wild to believe that two people similar in appearance would turn out to be villains. Still, his gut tells him something is terribly wrong with this case, just like Ikku himself felt it.

   He prayed to be wrong.

   Toshinori was just getting dressed to go to UA, where he was supposed to drop a few things off at his new desk, when his phone buzzed on the counter and he leaned over to see the name on the screen. Tsukauchi Naomasa. Surely he would get answers and, hopefully, his mind would be put at ease. Quickly, he accepted the call and put the phone to his ear.

   “Hello?”

   “Good morning, All Might. I have the results of Ikku’s DNA tests.” On the other side, his friend sounded hurried, and he recognized the sound of a car door closing.

   “Ah, that’s good, right? Did you find out anything useful?”

   “It’s best if we talk about it in person. Trust me, you need to know.” Naomasa’s tone was serious. “Are you busy today?”

   Well, his desk could surely wait. “Nothing too important that I can’t do another day. Should I meet you somewhere?”

   “No need, I’m going to pick you up.” He said over the sound of an engine starting.

   Toshinori felt his hands sweat as he frowned, but nodded. “Understood. I’ll be waiting.”

   He finished getting ready and waited. His leg was kicking and his heart beating a little faster than usual, and he coughed blood into a tissue in his anxiety. He already knew something was very fishy, but with Naomasa’s audible distress, he was more than nervous about this entire situation. He waited at the porch until he recognized the detective’s car stopping in front of the gate. When he opened the passenger-side door, he found a folder on the seat.

   His friend greeted him with an anxious expression, lips pressed into a thin line. “Can you read this on the way?”

   As the car started to move, Toshinori opened the folder and began reading.

   The first page was filled with several paragraphs of lab results bursting with medical jargon, most of which he did not understand, but he could catch at least the basics. Something about the body presenting rare features unseen in most mutant quirks, a section detailing fast regenerative abilities, and a few paragraphs describing several genetic abnormalities. Quirk anomalies.

   The second page had the profiles of several different people. It had a brief description of them, their quirks, and a percentage.

   A kind-looking lunch lady who had been reported missing for months. A lawyer who was mysteriously found dead earlier that year. A petty thief who, for all anyone knew, was just too good at hiding from the police. Seven people from different families, all either dead or missing, listed as DNA matches. One of the entries particularly caught his eye.

   Kousei Tatsuma. Ryukyu’s younger brother who went missing seven years ago. He could still remember how large the movement to find him was, and how devastated the heroine was for a long time. Kousei was a young man with a dragon quirk like hers, but while Ryukyu gives her the ability to transform into a dragon similar to those in European mythology, his made him look more like…

   … an eastern dragon. One with a long body, fur along its neck, and non-reptilian body parts.

   Oh.

   At the bottom of the page, one profile stood out. This one was of a young boy. The picture attached to it was a teenager in middle school uniform, with an awkward but bright smile. Toshinori recognized the curly green hair, the big green eyes, and the freckles. According to the description, he was quirkless… and he had died only two months earlier.

   BIGGEST MATCH was written under the image.

   “It’s bad, Yagi-san. In more ways than one.” The detective finally broke the silence.

   Toshinori frowned and forced himself to tear his eyes from the paper and process it all. “What does this mean?”

   Naomasa swallowed dryly. “Normally, DNA tests don’t take as long as this, but our friends at the lab were scratching their heads trying to piece this together. Nothing made sense until they realized he has the DNA of more than one person. And in different concentrations, depending on which tissue was analyzed.”

   Toshinori looked at him, a silent plea for more details.

   “Going off what they told me, his blood and bone marrow contain an almost even trace of all of those different people. There were variations in things like saliva and nails, but his scales in particular seem to come prominently from Young Tatsuma. And…” He sighed, glancing at him. “With the exception of the scales, most of the genetic material seems to have come from that boy, Izuku Midoriya. His fur matched perfectly.”

   The hero sank into his seat, gazing emptily at the road ahead. From the moment Ikku first spoke to him, he had had the impression he sounded like a teenager. It was what helped him quickly realize he was scared and lost rather than aggressive. The document in his hands presented a grim possibility that made him sick to his stomach.

   “They checked several times to make sure there wasn’t any mistake, and his quirk factor, it’s… it’s all over the place. Almost impossible to decipher. Do you know what this could mean?”

   “I wish I didn’t.”

   The detective’s grip on the steering wheel tightened, his eyes focused on the road. Silence lingered between them, giving Toshinori time to flip the page. His heart dropped at what he saw.

……………

In Loving Memory

Midoriya Izuku, age 14, passed away on the 2nd of April, in a tragic accident. According to witnesses, he had been searching for a lost child in a small forested area during a thunderstorm, but fell into a flooded river. He was found already dead when heroes and firefighters arrived, leaving a great weight in the hearts of everyone involved.

Although his life was short, he will be remembered as a dedicated student who, although born without a quirk, never gave up the dream of becoming a pro hero like his greatest idol, All Might.

……………

   Toshinori felt a weight on his chest.

   What looked back at him was the face of the same smiling boy, this time in black and white. Someone who was inspired by him. Who wanted to be a hero because of him, and died trying to help others. The tragedy of it all briefly pulled him away from the bigger implications Ikku’s existence had, until Naomasa spoke again.

   “Quirks are physical, Yagi-san. They exist in the person’s DNA. If you were to take someone’s quirk, and give it to someone else…”

   Toshinori closed the folder and rubbed his forehead. “That man is dead. It’s impossible.”

   “I wish it was, I truly did, but I can’t see any other explanation. Can you?”

   The hero shook his head. “So where are we going?”

   “To the cemetery.”

   Toshinori’s eyes widened. He didn’t need any more words to understand what they were meant to do there, but it still felt too insane to be true. In all of his years as a hero, he had never had to do something like this, something so invasive.

   By the time they arrived, workers had already dug the grave and were pulling the casket up. Officer Sansa shouted, directing the workers to lower the crane to the side of the open pit. Clumps of dirt fell off from the black lacquer, still damp from rainfall. The graveyard smelled like clean grass and fresh air, nothing at all like the decay and heroic lives cut short. Sansa stopped and ran over to meet them, fur bristling in anxiety to match his dark expression. “We can open it whenever you’re ready.”

   Everyone on the scene simultaneously held their breaths as the lid was pulled open. If they were wrong, they were about to see the remains of a boy taken from the world too soon, which felt like one of the most disrespectful things Toshinori could think of. But if they were right, they were still going to discover something almost as gruesome.

   There was no one inside the casket.

   There was something inside, though. When Toshinori stepped closer to take a look, his legs weak in a way he hadn’t felt in years, he saw a single All Might figurine and a notebook in terrible condition - burnt and torn. It was labeled Hero Analysis For The Future.

   Blood came up his throat and he coughed it into his hand, taking ragged breaths. He stepped away, feeling like it was hard to breathe, his stomach twisting and mind spinning as it tried to come up with any other explanation for all of this.

   He refused to believe it.

   All for One couldn’t have survived.

   But the ugly truth was staring at him. Ikku’s description of the man, the DNA results, the missing body. There was no way around it.

   Could it really be that his arch nemesis had a son, or was that a lie, too?

   “What now?” He asked, almost in a whisper.

   “Now we investigate. We have a good clue of who is behind it all, but we still don’t know how, why, and for what purpose.” Naomasa walked up to him. “How about you? What are you planning to do?”

    “I fear it’s up to me to have a long, difficult conversation with the young man.”