Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Midoriya Inko liked to think she was a good mother. She’d made mistakes, obviously– the biggest of which yielded her a messy separation and an empty bed– but she tried her best, despite that, to bring her son the best life he could wish for.

Because of that, the moment Izuku left the doctor’s office, downcast and with a brand new ‘quirkless’ label, she dialed up a number she had promised herself never to use again.

“Hello– ”

“Hisashi,” she cut off the crisp English that left the receiver. “It’s Izuku. We just got home from the doctor a-and–” her voice shook, and she had to stop for a moment, muffling a sob.

“Inko? Inko, what happened to Izuku?” The man asked, sounding increasingly desperate. “You said doctor, is he okay? Wh–”

She braced herself before speaking. “He’s quirkless, Hisashi.”

“Oh, thank god,” he wheezed with a relieved sigh. “I thought it was something serious.”  

“It is serious,” Inko hissed angrily at her phone. “You didn’t see how devastated he was. He didn’t even talk to me, just locked himself in his room.” She hesitated. “He— he wanted to be a hero, Hisashi.”

“He’s five, everyone wants to be a hero at this age. And anyway, you said the doctor ‘diagnosed’ Izuku?” Her husband let out a harsh laugh. “How does that even work? What did they do to check?”

“They took an x-ray of his foot. He has the extra toe joint.”

“That’s such bullshit.” The man said. Even through the phone, Inko could practically feel his disbelief. “That theory has been debunked for so long. Even if you consider ‘quirks’ as the possession of an active quirk factor – which is not a very reliable standart in any way –, the coincidence of the toe joint to its absence has been proven to not be recurrent enough for these sorts of assumptions to be made. It has been years since the study disproving that came out, honestly, what sort of ‘doctor’ does th–”

“Hisashi.” She interrupted sternly. “Now is not the time for one of your mutter storms. Do you have any idea of what we can do?”

There was a long silence while the man thought. “You should send him here. To America, I mean. ”

“What?” Inko bristled, affronted. “No. We talked about it–”

“That was before.” The man interrupted. He sighed.“ I don’t know if you’ve seen the numbers, Inko, but quirkless discrimination in Japan is bad. No matter how much you tried to give Izuku a good life he’d be systematically pushed down every step of the way. Things work very differently here– he would at least have a chance to live a normal life. ”

The woman stayed silent, mulling over her options. Despite all his failings, she didn’t doubt Hisashi was being truthful about that, and that put her in a complicated situation. She didn’t want Izuku to have contact with his father– that’s why the man went overseas, after all– but there might not be a choice.

“Look,” The voice came after a moment of silence. “I know you… dislike me. I won’t argue against that again. But I can give Izuku the life he deserves here. Our arrangement said no contact but that’s clearly gone to hell now. You could call him– every day, if you wish– see if he’s doing fine. You could even visit– hell, I’d say you should come to America with him if I didn’t already know what your answer would be.”

“I need to be here for my father.” Inko scowled through the phone, a petty need to defend herself in sight of the decision she was about to make.

“I understand that,”  Hisashi said, and she could almost see his arms raised in an appeasing motion– such a characteristic gesture she’s loath to see her son already starting to unknowingly replicate. “But you know what that means.”

She knew, and she hated that it was the best option.

“– and did you know they have a bat hero?! He has huge wings and can use s-supersonic attacks to fight villains! His name was B-Bat– uh–”

“Batman , dear?” Inko asked obligingly, letting the English syllables curl around her tongue.

“Yeah!” Izuku answered cheerfully, bouncing in place on his airplane seat. It had been a while– too long– since she last saw her son this happy. It made a whisper of contentment grow in her chest, assuaging the gnarling anxiety that had taken hold sometime in the last few weeks.

The woman closed her eyes, letting Izuku’s mutter storm wash over her. She had a tablet with old All Might documentaries for when silence was needed, but the flight hadn’t even taken off yet, so there was no harm in allowing her kid to talk– especially since he’d been so quiet recently.

It was a long, draining traverse over to America– one Inko would have to repeat in the opposite direction less than a week after setting foot on land again. The difference was that, this second time, she would be alone. No five-year-old chattering away at her side.

She wasn’t sure if Izuku knew he would be staying while she left, but she was loath to clarify it to him when he was so happy at the prospect of getting away from Japan.

The two months since the littlest Midoriya’s diagnosis had been hell. Hisashi had taken it upon himself to deal with the migration arrangements– and Inko did not want to know how exactly he managed to get everything set up so quickly– which meant she had loads of time to watch over her kid– and to see firsthand the effects of quirkless discrimination. 

She knew the situation was bad, but watching her son be dismissed from the swimming lessons he liked so much because he was ‘too fragile’, seeing his best friends become bullies— it hurt, and it made an ugly feeling crawl up to her chest. Anger, hopelessness and disappointment combined into a huge mass of negativity so pungent she knew it had started to affect Izuku, even as she tried to make their home a happy space to fight against the increasingly hostile outside world.

In the end, despite the many grievances Inko had over her husband, she knew this was the right decision.

She only hoped the man could keep Izuku away from the darker aspects of his job.

Landing in America from Japan meant getting into another, smaller plane over to where Hisashi lived. Thankfully, it was a much shorter trip, and Izuku managed to sleep the whole way as they flew towards Minnesota.

Politics and demographic distribution had changed significantly in the US over the last two hundred years. The country had been one of the most affected in the Dawn of Quirks, and many of its greater cities— New York, Washington DC, etc— had a great deal of their landscape leveled during superpowered fights. They’d mostly managed to reconstruct, but during the messy rush to acclimatize to the New World, a couple of other metropolises had sprouted throughout a few before-sparser states.

Pruisburn, the city they were headed towards, was one of the emergent focal points when it came to quirk science and research. It sat next to the northern border in a great sign of camaraderie between Canada, and housed some of the leading universities and the HQs for some of the more relevant companies in the area.

It was in one of those big name companies that Hisashi worked as an analyst and advisor. At least officially, that was.

Truthfully, Inko was… suspicious over some details about her husband’s occupation. She had never cared to really dig into details on the matter, but the ease in which he accepted moving away from his family and cutting almost all contact after she questioned him was basically a confirmation that there was something sketchy ongoing behind the scenes.

The sheer grandioseness of the skyscraper they were directed towards did little to assuage her worries. It was a luxurious building, stamped with the company’s logo in every plant vase and napkin. Multiple elevators were stationed throughout the long hallways to allow express access to any of the over 40 floors the building housed— although, considering the many biolocks and clearance requirements, Inko could only visit a selected few of those. She noticed there seemed to be different sections to the place’s layout— some areas were tagged as ‘work-related’, while others looked to be fully-functional habitational segments.

After questioning, it was confirmed that, yes, the very same building in which most commercial operations of the company were conducted also provided in-house living accommodations for some of some of the biggest corporate contributors— in fact, Hisashi himself had a nice loft on his name, just a floor under the CEO’s.

Was it sketchy? Inko thought so, but she didn’t really know how stuff worked inside those massive companies, and her vision was so skewed by her preconception of Hisashi’s… legal proclivities… that anything a little less familiar would easily be tagged as “criminal” in her mind.

But the knowledge that her husband lived and dwelled with those marmored floors and magnanimous overseeing windows sent a sour taste to her mouth— especially knowing Izuku would also be subjected to that for his day-to-day life. 

Inko’s small apartment back in Japan was much more a choice than a necessity. With the money Hisashi sent every month she could easily afford to live in one of those higher-end condos— but it didn’t feel right. She’d grown up in a middle-low class household, and a lot of her life skills and character came from having a tight community this sort of arrangement provided. Inko had wanted Izuku to have the same thing— god knows how insufferable and out of touch some of those pompous private-school kids were— but it didn’t feel like that was an option anymore. It had stopped being an option the moment he left that terrible quirk clinic.

A man in a neatly-pressed suit guided mother and son through the labyrinth of stretching hallways and expensive furniture. His watch looked like it cost a whole year of Inko’s nice nursing job salary, yet he bowed lowly at Midoriya-san and her ‘Young Dragon’.

Izuku giggled at the title, although he clearly didn’t understand the connection. He’d only woken up halfway through the taxi drive, so his eyes were a blur of green as they fitted over all the interesting details of the place, filled with energy and curiosity.

Inko mentally thanked— a bit guiltily— his lack of proficiency in English. Her son might’ve managed to doze off pretty much for the entirety of the long trip, but she hadn’t. God knows her headache was already bad enough without a five-year-old constantly rattling off questions to everyone they came across.

They were left alone in front of heavy double doors in one of the upper floors. There was no sign or indication to label the room, but she was pretty sure of what awaited them on the other side. 

After a moment of deliberation, Inko raised Izuku up, holding him above her hip, and allowed pudgy fingers to press on the elegant doorbell button. 

“Hello, you two,” Midoriya Hisashi’s warm voice spoke from the open doorway. His form was tall and broad-shouldered, just like Inko remembered. Inky black curls contrasted against tanned skin, his crimson-red eyes shining at them from behind thin, rectangular glasses. “Come on in.”

Inko sat across from her husband inside his glamorous office on her second day in America. Izuku was in the living room, finally taking a nap after a long afternoon of visiting every place in the extensive itinerary he had somehow concocted during his last week in Japan, meaning the adults had a good hour or two to discuss the elephant in the room.

“How do you plan to do this?” She finally asked after a long moment. 

It wasn’t that Inko didn’t think Hisashi a competent man— his intellect was one of the things that had first enticed her, after all. Still, she needed to be sure the care she was entrusting her son in would be of the utmost quality.

“There’s a school in the city that caters to international children,” he dutifully answered. “It’s not the absolute best in terms of grades and rankings, but it’s up there, and I believe it would allow Izuku a smoother transition than just shoving him in an entirely English-speaking community.”

The woman nodded, biting her lip. “What about his… quirk situation?”

“That’s not a problem,” the man affirmed, giving her one of his infuriating small, corporative smiles. “Documentation works a bit differently here. There’s a lot of confidentiality around quirk records. Quirk names aren’t displayed on any ID information, either, only the Index of Accommodation, and even if Izuku truly is a white-tag— something I still need an specialized Quirk Doctor to confirm— that would just mean he gets a fast pass for any standardized procedure or regulated space, since he could just use the basic stuff.”

Inko blinked at the rapid stream of information. Hisashi had a tendency to mutter whenever he got too excited— and although this hadn’t descended into a true muttering session, the words were still a bit more clumped-up together than she was used to. 

“Right,” she conceded with a slight frown, “no one will know he’s quirkless, then?”

“Uh,” he sighed, thoughtfully pressing a hand to his mouth. “How do I say this? It’s more like… that isn’t a thing? Legally. And socially, mostly at least. I mean, we don’t ever even talk about quirks , only mutations. And Izuku definitely has mutations, his hair is literally green. It’s, uh— different parameters. Basically, he can’t be discriminated against for being quirkless here, because the whole concept of quirkless is not a thing in people’s vocabulary. It’s not perfect, of course, but for him? It’s definitely better than it would be back in Japan.”

“Okay,” Inko let out a large breath. She couldn’t say she fully understood the political intricacies Hisashi had mentioned, but from the little she managed to gather, Izuku would be able to live his life without much biases or prejudice. 

He’d have a chance, and that was more than enough. 

Chapter Text

It took a long moment for the call to connect. He had to watch the screen, fully black with a white loading symbol, while little Izuku jumped and bounced from excitement by his side.

Eventually, though, there was a melodic chime, and Inko Midoriya’s face was displayed in all its glory on his phone.

“Hello?” She asked, staring at them. Her eyes were tiny and pixelated, and the video would stutter every once in a while, but it made his son’s eyes glister nonetheless. “Izuku, is that you?”

“Mom!” Hisashi’s boy screamed, jumping fully in front of the camera and painfully kneeling his dad in the process.

“Sweetheart!” Inko smiled. A bright and wide thing that scrunched up her cheeks and made her face look even rounder than usual. “How are you doing?”

The child let out a loud giggle in response. “Mama, you won’t believe it! I went to school and it was super different and super great!”

“Yeah? Why is that?”

“My new teacher— she says we need to call her ‘M-miss Prince’ and not ‘Prince-sensei’— she speaks almost all English! But she says things in Japanese sometimes when I don’t understand the words, and she says I don’t need to write everything in English yet since I’m still learning. A-and you won’t guess it— I made a new f-friend!” Izuku blurted out in a long stream of words, barely pausing to breathe.

Hisashi’s arms tightened around his son as his wife hummed. “Oh?” She asked. “And who is that?”

The toddler perked up. “His name is. Uh— P-pedro.” He struggled through the unfamiliar syllables with a small frown. “H-he’s actually Brazilian but his mommy and daddy are Japanese so he knows b-both languages! His hair is blue and his skin is super h-hard and he’s sooo cool! He’s helping me with the different letters— and I helped him with the numbers yesterday!” 

“That’s great sweetie,” Inko said. “So you’ve been learning a lot, then?”

Izuku giggled, and began a long-winded rant on all the different subjects he’d been introduced to during the last couple of days. He’d been quite anxious with the prospect of attending classes at first— his previous experiences less than ideal in the very least— but soon enough it became clear the new environment was unlike anything he’d seen before.

Hisashi loved seeing his son grow and have fun. Noticing him slowly coming out of his shell into a chattery, intelligent kid as the days went by put a warm feeling into his heart. 

There were still lingering issues— no matter how much the man hated it, the few months Izuku had spent back in Japan after his ‘diagnosis’ were enough to instill scars that would likely take a long time before they would heal. Still, he was getting better, and that was more than enough for the time being.

“Hey, Little Dragon,” he cut in gently after about half an hour of talk. His kid had let out a few loud yawns in the last couple of minutes, so he decided to take that as a sign to end the meeting. “I need to have a talk with your mom. Boring, adult talk. Why don’t you go to your room and read that one book until we’re done here, huh?”

“The book?” Izuku mumbled, rubbing at his eyes like a small kitten. “ ‘Brave Powers’ , papa?”

“Yes, that one. I know you wanted to finish it before the week ended.”

His son hummed sleepily. “Is mama going to call again tomorrow?”

“Of course, Pumpkin.” Inko’s slightly grainy voice came from the small speaker. “Same time every night, remember?”

“...okay.” Izuku finally let out with a yawn. “G’night. See you tomorrow.”

“Love you, Izu.”

“Love you too.”

The adults waited in silence as the five-year-old pattered out the room and down the hallway, an All Might plushy— one he had bought from Japan— firmly in hands. It was only a good couple of seconds after the green-haired child left the scene when Inko decided to speak again.

“ ‘Brave Powers’? Really, Hisashi?” She asked, voice scathing and tone harsh.

He winced. “It was the closest thing to a hero book I had— that was appropriate for his age, anyway. You know how the boy is about his hero stuff, Inko.”

His wife huffed, crossing her arms and staring at the camera. How people ever thought she was a meek woman, he didn’t know. Her glare was terrifying. “That thing is pure MLA propaganda and you know it. Also, Izuku is five! Do you know what five year olds read? Picture books! Comics, maybe. There isn’t a single image inside that bullshit.”

“You know the Little Dragon is smart. He can understand it just fine.” Hisashi grumbled. “And it’s not like he’s been reading the book alone. I’m always by his side, helping him with the words and telling him about what stuff was exaggerated for propaganda and what stuff actually happened. It’s fine.”

“Oh, yes,” Inko mocked. “Because teaching a toddler about media manipulation and historical inaccuracies is much better.”  

“He’ll need to learn about that at some point.”

“Sure, but not at age five!” The woman practically screamed. He hadn’t realised she’d be this angry, and at this point his only respite was that he was too far for any of his organs to be subjected to Attraction. “What’s next? You make him annalyze heroes’ weaknesses? You teach him how to shoot? How long will it be until you’ve pulled him into that business of yours?!” She fumed.

The man backed off, startled at her outburst. He… should’ve expected something like this. The fact it took almost a month of Izuku living there without her supervision for it to happen was, in hindsight, quite the surprise.

“Inko…” He sighed. “You know I don’t want him to get involved with my work like that.”

“Do I, Hisashi?” She bit off. “Because so far you have not given me any reasons to trust your word on that.”

Yeah, he thought. That was fair.

[A week later]

Hisashi rubbed his face with a sigh, staring at the numerous documents on his desk. Things had been going slow at the company for the last few days, meaning his duties had mostly been reduced to boring paperwork.

It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. In his position, slow days usually meant good business. Still, if he had to dismiss yet another nonsensical budget proposal he might just be forced to cause some chaos for his own peace of mind.

A loud ringing noise bought the man out of his lethargy. He glanced at the digital display in his watch, and was surprised to see the call came from Izuku’s school.

“This is Hisashi Midoriya,” he said, trying not to let any of his worry seep into his tone. “Who am I speaking to?”

“Hello sir,” a voice came from his phone’s speaker. It sounded somewhat nervous, which did little to calm the man. “I’m Sabrina, one of the nurses at your son’s school. Little Izuku is not doing so well, he has a pretty high fever and some dizziness. Is there any way you can come pick him up? He’s been released from classes for the day, and there’s not much more I can do.”

“Okay,” Hisashi agreed quickly, keys and jacket already on hand, and ready to leave. “I’ll be there in ten minutes. Thank you for calling.”

He moved fast, threading from his office to the underground parking lot almost at a sprint. Whatever his expression was, it must've been intense, because more than once employees would cross his path and quickly jump out of the way, spouting apologies. He would have to check on them later and make sure none of them got the wrong conclusions from his demeanor, but for now, Izuku was more important.

Izuku was always more important.

A call to Inko landed on voicemail, so he left her a message. Some quick mental math showed it was way too late back in Japan— stupid timezones— so, hopefully, by the time she learnt her son was ill, Hisashi would’ve managed to make him feel better.

It took a flat seven minutes to reach Izuku’s school, courtesy of a few broken traffic laws. He was likely way more harried than a simple fever warranted but sue him, it was the first time his Little Dragon had ever fallen sick. Ever. So, he thought some panic was allowed for the occasion.

“I’m Hisashi Midoriya,” he said to the confused receptionist, already handing his documents over. “I got a call from the nurse’s office to come get my son, Izuku.”

“Just a moment,” the woman, a short thing with a head full of slightly translucent bright purple hair, answered, dialing up a number at her desk’s landline. Some hushed words later, and her eyes turned to him. “Sabrina will be here with Izuku soon, you can wait up by one of the chairs.”

Hisashi didn’t, instead electing to anxiously pace around the room. Not that there was anything wrong with the chairs. It was an expensive school, and the furniture reflected that. He was just… impatient.

God, how was one supposed to deal with a sick child? Should he offer ice cream to make Izuku feel better? No, that was counterproductive. Maybe just some warm soup. Did his son even like soup? He hadn't had the time to really get a grasp of the little one’s tastes, especially since a good half of the meals they ate together were prepared by his company’s team of competent chefs. Shit, was there even any child-safe medicine back home? This was a mess.

Eventually, the nurse, a young-looking lady with a platinum blonde buzzcut, arrived, his Little Dragon’s hand firmly grasped to hers. 

“Is that your daddy, Zuku?” She asked his son, a hand pointing in Hisashi’s direction. Shy green eyes lifted from the ground to follow her movement and— oh.

Izuku looked, in short, like a mushed potato. Or maybe one of those wet kittens. His eyebrows were scrunched up in a pouty frown, made both cuter and more pitiful by two flushed cheeks. The man had to suppress a coo at the scene because he knew, no matter how adorable the kid looked, he was, at the end of the day, sick, and probably quite uncomfortable.

Still, he could always take a couple of pics to coo at later.

“Hey, Little Dragon,” he said, crouching down to the five-year-old's level. “Heard you were feeling icky.”

His son merely gave a long, whiny grunt in answer, before giving his father a clingy hug. A tiny nose pressed against Hisashi’s expensive pants— apparently the toddler had decided to bury his face in the fabric—, enough so that there would certainly be a large tear and snot stain later. Not that it mattered much. He had more pants.

“His fever got a bit higher since I called you,” Sabrina said, looking at the scene with soft eyes. “His file said you haven’t had him assessed by a Metallagiologist yet, but considering your family’s history of fire and heat-related mutations, I’d recommend you schedule an appointment as soon as possible, especially with this recent development.”

The man nodded in response. Considering Izuku’s last experience with a similar exam— the day he was ‘diagnosed’ quirkless— he had wanted to give the boy more time to settle before getting him to one of those doctors. It looked like postponing it wasn’t an option anymore, though.

Thankfully, he had just the perfect contact on speed dial. One of the perks of working in such a prominent position in the industry of quirk analysis.

It only took about three hours before father and son sat down at the fancy clinic. The doctor, one of Hisashi’s business associates, had managed to gather quite the reputation as a Mutation Specialist and Accessibility Counselor throughout the years. His schedule was usually filled to the brim, but a couple coined-in favours put the Midoriyas at the top of his list of patients. 

The five-year-old had been stuck in a bundle of nerves since he was told about the appointment. It was sad to see the kid’s excitement about going to a place that specifically researched quirks— something he was simply fascinated with— contrasting so violently the negative feelings he associated with similar experiences.

Eventually, anxiety and sickness had tired him out, and Hisashi’s Little Dragon fell into a light doze. His fluffy green curls were scrunched against his father’s suit as he rested, legs and knees pulled up tight against his tiny body atop one of the waiting room’s chairs. Cute.

“Izuku Midoriya?” A voice called from the front desk, and the man blinked. He hadn’t noticed anyone leaving the room, too preoccupied with his son.

He gently shook Izuku awake, but the kid just pressed himself closer to his father’s warmth. Huffing, Hisashi picked the little bundle of mushiness up and followed the receptionist’s directions towards the exam room. 

The different movements, scents and scenarios must’ve done a good job rousing the child, because by the time they’d sat down at Doctor Vincent Nguyen’s office, large green eyes blinked blearily, looking around the space.

“Hisashi,” the doctor, a tall man with metallic-golden skin that made him look about half his actual age, greeted with a nod. “What can I do for you today? It’s not often you request my assistance with such vehemence” 

The other man held back a scowl. “It’s my son,” he said, “Izuku moved in from Japan not too long ago. I had been postponing a Mutation Assessment appointment to let him settle, but today his school called— he had developed quite the fever. With my family history, you see how I thought that might be worrying.” 

Vincent hummed, his sharp, titanium-blue eyes clinically assessing the kid. Hisashi knew the man’s stare could become quite uncomfortable— it had something to do with the un-life-like stillness that permeated his every inch, the same mutation that made him seem like a moving statue, metallic and inorganic. Kids often became scared of it— which is why the doctor usually took in older patients. Still, the father was glad to see his son merely turn his head at the strange gaze, a tiny thread of curious excitement making its way through the little one’s sickness.

“Izuku, was it?” The kid nodded at doctor Nguyen’s inquiry. “Can you tell me what exactly you’re feeling?”

“R-really cold,” Hisashi’s son whispered in shaky English. He was still pressed at his father’s side, and the man could feel how hot he was even through the layers of fabric— a surprise, considering the man’s own elevated body temperature. “And itchy.”

“Can you tell me where the itch is?” Vincent asked, and little Izuku weakly pointed at a spot just next to his scalp, but still hidden by hair, in the crook between the back of his right ear and the nape of his neck. The adults exchanged meaningful glances.

“Alright, let’s move to the examination table so I can take a look at this.” The doctor announced, softening his voice as it was directed to the kid. “Hisashi, I assume you haven’t had his active meta factor assessed yet?”

“No,” Hisashi admitted with a sigh. “You know how hard it is to get the test done outside of Pruisburn— by the time the request went through, Izuku would already have moved.”

The other man conceded the explanation, but it was obvious he was still curious. They both knew, after all, that The Dragon’s influence could’ve easily guaranteed an earlier appointment, even all the way back in Japan. Inko would never have cooperated, though, not that Nguyen knew that.

“Well. I suggest you get one done sometime soon, even if your son hasn’t shown any signs of an active ability.” Vincent said, putting on his gloves for the exam. “It’s always good to be sure he won’t start spouting fire out of nowhere.”

Hisashi let out a short laugh, a wisp of flame escaping his mouth in the process.

Izuku’s evaluation went by as normal, even if his temperature and vital signs showed measurements different from what would’ve been considered the ‘norm’. That was all expected, though.

The kid’s family, on his father’s side, had a long winded list of people with fire-related mutations. As the generations passed, even those with quirks that didn’t directly relate to fire usually inherited one characteristic or other from that. Mostly, those traits were summarized by some sort of innate fire resistance— a slightly different tissue constitution, lungs that could better deal with smoke, and the like. Nothing big, but certainly notable enough down the line.

Hisashi’s son, as it became clear, had also been affected by this.

“Alright,” the doctor said after a good half an hour of measurements and tests. Izuku was drooping at this point, his green eyes hazy and heavy-lidded. Hisashi was certain the kiddo would crash the moment they entered his car. “There’ll be a couple of days before the tissue and blood analysis get processed, but the current assessments should be more than enough to get his file updated for now.”

The father nodded in assent, running his fingers through fluffy green curls. “Is there anything I should watch for?”

Vincent hummed, grabbing a couple of pamphlets from one of the binders on his desk. There were four of them: two extence and filled with tiny writing, and the others colorful and childish. 

“I’ll give you a certificate, valid for the next two weeks, so Izuku can stay at home while his body settles. If his temperature stops fluctuating and he stops feeling so cold before that date, you can just send him back to school.” He paused. “Now, I trust I shouldn’t have to tell you this but, just as a precaution: these booklets—” Nguyen handed him two of the papers, the ones bright red in color, leaving purple and white sheets still at the table “—should tell you what to do for heat-related mutations. Resources, what to watch for, how to manage them… I won’t get into details considering your family history with those. I’m trusting this aspect won’t be an issue.”

Hisashi glanced at the concise diagrams, recognizing many advices and rituals that his own parents did to him when he was Izuku’s age. He scratched at his neck, nails lightly running over the tiny patches of thicker scale that grew there— he remembered how annoying it was to get those at first, until his father introduced him to products he could apply and make them stop itching.

“What about this one?” He asked, gesturing towards the more… bright and vibrant leaflet. 

“That’s for your little one, of course. I don’t get many kids in my clinic, but whenever it happens, I like giving them a way to understand the symptoms they go through. It’s your choice whether to let him read it or not, though.”

Oh, Hisashi would certainly let Izuku read it. Hell, he might even give his Little Dragon the adult paper, just to satiate his curiosity— although, looking at the complexity of some of the language used, that might have to wait a couple of years still.

“Now, there’s one last thing,” Vincent warned, his tone robotic and professional as always. “You warned me his mother’s family has a history of mental and telekinetic abilities. Those are… complicated. This is where these come in,” he slid the two other pamphlets forward. Plastified paper scrapped thickly against the desk’s expensive wood, making the father realize just how thick those booklets were in comparison to the previous ones. “There are both, unfortunately, too many possible side-effects to mental abilities, and too little research on what specifically causes them. Some of the more common health issues to those with this family history are insomnia and migraines— but there are many other possible effects.” He sighed. “I didn’t notice any signs of mental mutations during today’s assessment, but those are the hardest to identify, so Izuku could very well still suffer from those drawbacks. These papers are quite dense, but they relay everything you should watch out for, and how to deal with the outcomes of the issues that might arise. Please read them and call me if you have any doubts about their content.”

The father frowned as the doctor finished his speech, shallowly reading over some of the titles and underlined bits of information. There were… many worrying terms, and thinking they may apply to his son put a lead weight to Hisashi’s stomach. 

A soft snore rang through the room and he sighed, closing the booklet shut. “Thank you for your time, Vincent. Your diligence will be rewarded.”

Nguyen nodded, his face set in a thin, metallic smile.