Chapter Text
Izuku Midoriya sat on the examination table, legs swinging nervously as he clutched his mother’s hand. His small fingers trembled, but he held onto her as tightly as he could. His heart pounded in his chest, but he wasn’t scared. He was excited.
Today was the day he’d find out what his Quirk was.
Dr. Tsubasa stood in front of them, holding a clipboard and adjusting his glasses. His expression was unreadable as he flipped through the papers. Why does he look so serious? Izuku wondered. Shouldn’t this be a happy moment?
“Well,” the doctor sighed, “I’m afraid I have some unfortunate news.”
Izuku’s grip on his mother’s hand tightened. “Unfortunate?”
Dr. Tsubasa turned the clipboard around, pointing to an X-ray of Izuku’s foot. “You see this? Normally, people with Quirks have only one joint in their pinky toe. But you, Izuku… you have two. That’s a trait of the Quirkless.”
The words hit him like a slap to the face. His breath caught in his throat. Quirkless? No, that wasn’t right. He had a Quirk. He knew he did!
“But… but that’s wrong!” Izuku blurted out. He looked up at his mom, tears stinging his eyes. “Mom, tell him! Remember? The toy car!”
Inko Midoriya blinked, confusion flickering across her face. “What do you mean, sweetie?”
“The toy car!” Izuku sniffled. “I found it in the park! It was all rusty and broken, but when I picked it up… it got shiny again! It started working! That’s my Quirk! Right, Mom?”
His mother hesitated. She searched her memory, trying to recall the moment. She did remember Izuku coming home with an old toy car once, but she had brushed it off as nothing. Kids had wild imaginations, after all.
Dr. Tsubasa let out a small chuckle. “Izuku, I know this must be hard to hear, but sometimes the brain plays tricks on us. You probably just found a newer car that looked like the broken one.”
“No!” Izuku shouted, shaking his head. “I know what I saw! It was old, and then it wasn’t! I made it better!”
Dr. Tsubasa’s smile didn’t falter, but there was something strange in his eyes. Something… off. “I’m sorry, Izuku, but you don’t have a Quirk.”
Izuku stared at him, his small hands curling into fists. He wanted to argue, to scream that it wasn’t true. But his mother’s arm wrapped around him, pulling him close, whispering apologies as she cried.
And just like that, the dream he had clung to since he was a baby shattered into pieces.