Chapter Text
The day started with righteous victory. Midoriya Izuku stood atop a pile of trash, screaming his heart to the heavens as dawn broke. The boy, who only ten months before was the archetypical definition of a nerd (sans glasses), was bound by corded muscle. His mentor had taken a dreamer, an enthusiast at best, and transformed him into a vessel worthy of a century old legacy. And, of course, what the blonde gaunt man proclaimed to the boy was: “EAT THIS!”
From then the hours passed like water through Izuku's hands. A torrent of activity dragging him through the day. A confrontation with his former brother, a ‘conversation’ after nearly breaking his skull, the grueling mental exhaustion from Japan’s most prestigious (hero) school, a minor confrontation with a robotic teen, and finally, The Practical.
The Practical, like most things in Izuku’s life, did not start well.
“AAAAND START!”
“WHAT’S THE MATTER?! THERE'S NO COUNTDOWNS IN REAL LIFE! RUN! RUUUUUN!”
The crowd of gathered teenagers surged forward into the mock city that decided their fate, their worth. And Izuku stalled. He fell behind the pack, the surely more capable, determined hero-hopefuls racing into the trial grounds faster than the boy could react. Still he gathered his meager resolve and joined the fray.
Inside the arena was chaos. Robotic villains assailing and falling to the heroic mob. A mono-wheeled faux villain crashed through a wall, its green shell decorated with the numeral ‘1’. The automaton snapped towards the green haired child, claws and rotary gun poised for slaughter. And again, the boy froze. Fear clinging to his muscles like an insidious parasite.
Why can't I move?
A flash of light intercepted the towering machine before it could turn him into pulp. A dazzlingly blonde making a remark that fell on deaf ears before retreating to claim more points.
Izuku was left in the eye of the storm, the competitors around him slaughtering all visible villains. Izuku tried to separate from the group but with each attempt he was met with a disappointing revelation.
He was simply too late to do anything.
Those that possessed speed altering Quirks blitzed ahead of him to execute the stragglers. Projectile and area Quirks took out the frailer villains before he could reach them. And, for the durable three pointers, his fists could not break their higher quality metal.
Left with zero points, Izuku was left with the crushing realization that he failed. Failed the exam, failed All Might, and most importantly of all, failed himself.
The ground shook.
Rising from the center of the mock city, a dark green colossus towered six stories high. The Zero Pointer’s shadow cast upon the onlooking children. Panic filled the students as they all made haste, fleeing from the overwhelming power of the iron titan.
Izuku was spiraling, burning shame clung to his chest. His performance was less than pitiful, it was atrocious. Spitting upon the legacy of the greatest hero. Ten months of blood, sweat, and tears wasted in the Quirkless boy who maybe just should have taken that sw-
“Oww”
A cry for help. Izuku turned, tears gone as he gazed upon the helpful girl from earlier. She was trapped underneath concrete rubble, struggling to escape the approaching giant. Before the conscious thought of ‘She’s in danger’ ever crossed his mind, Izuku was charging against the flow of retreating students.
Energy pulsed within his legs. He leapt up, fist back. The thumping blood within his ears was replaced with his battle cry.
SMAAASSSHHHH!!!
The Zero Pointer was obliterated by the force of a punch able to change the weather. The full strength of One for All unleashing a shockwave more akin to that of an eruption than anything mortal. The force of nature cultivated by eight predecessors crumpled the metallic head of the Obstacle, the massive construct sent tumbling backwards.
But a fifteen year old was not meant to contain the wrath of a hurricane condensed into the human form, let alone a single arm.
Izuku was ruined. Legs flailing behind him from a dozen unnaturally gifted joints, arm discolored with overwhelmed tissue and shattered bones. He was falling, body uselessly limp as the ground approached.
His mind suddenly caught up to his body, pain flooding his system. Teeth clenched, he looked downward. I have one arm left.
Detroit Sm-
In another life, maybe he would have landed the punch, equalized his descent with the sheer displacement of air granted to him by his loaned Quirk. Maybe the girl would have catch him once more. Maybe the memories held within the Quirk would grant him their aid.
In this life, however? Midoriya Izuku fell. Fell through the air. Through the fingers of Uraraka Ochako. Through the concrete. Through the very borders of reality.
And hit a locker.
The day started with a whimper. Taylor Hebert arrived at school after winter break, caution and anxiety oozing off her like a malaise. It had been two months since the sudden pause of the Trio’s campaign. Taylor, who had suffered a year and a half of their torment already, knew they didn't actually stop bullying her. She wasn't stupid.
Emma, Sophia, and Madison were planning something. Something big. The momentary pause was just a tool to let her guard down. And so Taylor waited for the shoe to drop.
And it sure did.
Arriving at Winslow High, hell on Earth Bet if you asked some, Taylor scanned the crowd subtly. Her hoodie made it hard but she had practice. The Trio was nowhere to be seen.
The shoe had yet to drop.
Hypervigilant, she made her way to her locker. The cubby wasn't the most secure space for storage–Taylor suffered multiple incidents since freshman year of Emma, her friends, and her flunkies pouring various liquids into its interior–but the locker contained replaceables. Spare scratch paper, extra pencils, a cheap notebook. Nothing of importance to lose when the Trio came knocking. But, over the break Taylor realized she needed a new notebook, her math notebook was running low on available pages and Mr. Quinlan, in addition to being a bastard who never took her accusations against the trio seriously, was a taskmaster of paper waste.
Simple solution, instead of wasting five dollars at the store, just grab the notebook already there.
The first thing she noticed was the smell. Rot. Decay. Various students glaring at the segment of lockers like there was a visible aura of foul stench.
The second? The Trio leaning against a wall chatting it up. Sophia Hess, trackstar and most violent of the group, turned her attention to Taylor before unsubtly smiling and flicking her head to bring attention to the Trio’s favorite punching bag.
Taylor feigned ignorance, better to pretend to be ambushed than antagonize about not giving attention. She shuffled over to her locker and clenched her teeth.
Her fears rang true as the vile smell was emanating from her locker. Something was left to fester in her locker over the break, she just knew it. Giving up, Taylor turned only to be suddenly face to face with Emma Barnes.
Emma. Once upon a time she and Taylor were like sisters. They spent their childhoods together. She was there when Taylor’s Mom died. Emma promised to stay her best friend.
Emma met Sophia while Taylor was at summer camp. Taylor returned to find her sister hostile and cruel. Every insecurity, every shared moment of grief, and every positive memory Taylor had with the girl had been weaponized against her.
“Open it Taylor.”
From behind, Sophia spoke. “Open it Hebert.”
Taylor was trapped. Cornered. So, as always, she relented. Better to get this over with before Sophia slams her head into a locker again.
The locker was putrid. Stuffed to nearly overflowing with used pads and tampons. The smell intensified, waves of sickening rot causing Taylor to gag.
She turned to puke on the floor but before he made it something grabbed her by the hair and shoved her.
Into the locker.
The door slammed closed. The click of the lock ringing out like a judge's gavel.
She was trapped. Surrounded by the smell. She tried to thrash, to escape the confines of her prison. She slammed the locker door, no one came.
Bile on her clothes and worse everywhere, Taylor tried to free herself. Over and over and over again. Seconds turned to minutes. Minutes to what felt like hours. The primal need to survive, to fight, became overwhelming.
Until the cold came in.
The realization that, this is it. No one was going to save her. And so she pulled into herself, mind trying to escape the circumstances that will surely be her death.
Escape.
Her head shook, a field of glass burned and shattered. A rotating matrix of mile wide lattices. This memory sliding into oblivion as she returned to darkness.
Taylor felt beads of light enter her perception. Information flooded her head. She was surrounded by thousands of stars, each screaming into her head fragments of information. They were in the walls, the floors, in the filth that smothered her. Each node beaming information into her already fraying consciousness. Location. Orientation. Smell. Hunger. Sight. Sound. Biology.
An endless cacophony of data she had no way to manage, no way to stop.
And something hit the locker.
Taylor's space reduced even further, a dent now pushing into her ribs. And Taylor remained.
Until the screams and sirens. Did someone finally call the police? Was she saved?
Taylor’s heart sank at the voices just outside her tomb growing distant. They were there for someone else.
No! No!
Taylor’s strength returned, her mind delirious from the stars, crushed by her bullies, and wrathful at yet again being ignored by the systems that be.
Taylor banged on the locker walls, ignoring the piercing pain of the stars. Her fist hit the metal sheet harder than ever before. It doesn't matter if she ended up broken, she would die anyway! Her hands bleed, nails screeching against metal. She kicked and thrashed and rebelled against life itself.
She was released. Her body flailed like a feral animal. And soon after, everything went black.
Taylor woke up two days ago. The inputs lessened, became more manageable, when she slept through Tuesday. She hasn't been discharged yet, primarily due to the still unconscious boy in the cot next to her.
For all that the hero Panacea can heal, brains have never been included in that list. Thankfully the hero did help with the, uh, apparently grotesque and severe damage to his arm and legs.
And the skull fracture, she couldn't forget the skull fracture.
She herself had a minor case of sprained wrist and life threatening infections (that she might have accidentally caused in her less than dignified attempt to escape).
The PRT officer(? agent? whatever) assigned to their two cot suite was pretty telling on what the hell happened to her.
She triggered. Possibly twice, if that was even possible.
She only experimented mildly, wary of the Men in Black watching her in shifts. Whatever she controlled, that she can supernaturally perceive in a multi block radius even through obstructions. She could also give instructions, either simple and complex, and they obeyed.
‘Move over here.’ ‘What do you smell?’ ‘Act normal.’ ‘Patrol in a figure eight pattern and send a signal if you see X color.’
It took her an embarrassingly long time to realize what she was controlling was bugs. Insects, spiders, it didn't really matter for her power. If it's considered a bug, she can command it. Not that her own perception was included in that, it's probably more control of Arthropods in general.
Since waking up, her ability to deal with the swarm improved greatly. Instead of a flood of a million different chunks of information, her brain adapted to taking the average of those points. Or possibly exponentially increasing her ability to multitask. She practiced trying to read while using gnats as spatial trackers. It was hard and hurt at first but she got it within an hour of trying.
Taylor brought her gaze over the rim of her book, the slumped body of her father snoozing away after dealing with his daughter being sent to the hospital as a gibbering mess with possible sepsis. Being held loosely by the PRT also didn't help with the stress part.
Taylor hasn't confessed everything yet, despite the conversations she had with the man. She's worried about how much pressure is already crushing Danny Hebert. How could she possibly tell her father that she has been systematically bullied for over a year, ultimately resulting in her near death? He no doubt suspected something, a young woman doesn't emerge from a locker covered in blood (both her own and others) by mistake after all.
“痛たたたた...”
Taylor looked to her roommate clutching his wrapped head. At the corner of her eye she saw the PRT man put his hand in his suit jacket. Probably drawing a low capacity foam launcher.
The green eyes of the boy looked around in confusion, face scrunched. He said a number of phrases in different languages before landing on something Taylor understood. “Hello, do you speak English?” His accent was vaguely Californian.
“Excuse me, sir.” The voice of the PRT agent. “Do you know where you are?”
“No?”
“You are currently in Brockton Bay Central Hospital.”
“Um, where?”
“A hospital in Brockton Bay, Massachusetts, USA, Earth Bet.” The green haired boy mouthed something in his mother tongue. Before he could reply the agent continued. “The date is January 6th, 2011. What is the last thing you remember?”
“2011?! I'm from 2214!” The boy’s lips began vibrating rapidly, a string of undecipherable words filling the air. “Eep! Sorry, bad h-habit. Um, the last thing I remember was just about falling to my d-death at the Entrance Exam.”
“The fuck?” Taylor flushed, not meaning to let that slip.
“Oh my, I forgot to introduce myself!” He mumbled something again. “My name is Izuku Midoriya.”
The agent presumably wrote the information down on the tablet that appeared while Taylor wasn't looking.
“Excuse me, Mr. Hebert? Mr. Hebert!” Taylor's Dad stumbled awake. “Would you be able to remain here for the next thirty minutes?”
“Y-yes.” Dad adjusted his glasses after shaking away his sleep. “Will you or one of your coworkers remain here?”
“No, you three will be unsupervised, please make sure your daughter and Mr. Midoriya stay put.”
The agent exited the room, the door locking behind him. Oh, lovely.
“Son, what was your name again?”
“Izuku Midoriya, s-sir.” The boy sheepishly scratched the back of his head. “Would I be able to ask you two some questions?”
“Of course.”
“Um, w-what is your names?”
“I'm Danny Hebert and this is my daughter Taylor.”
Izuku bowed in his hospital bed. “It's a pleasure to meet you both.” He rose. “What did the man in the suit mean by Earth Bet?”
Dad's eyes lit up with concern. “Earth Bet is the designation of this version of Earth. The only other known version is Earth Aleph.”
“I don't know nearly enough Pre-Quirk History but I'm unsure if I'm even from this version of Earth…”
“How so?”
“He's from two hundred years into the future.”
“Oh.” Dad turned to me. “Is he… from your power?”
Taylor shook her hands in front of her. “No, no it's not that, I genuinely don't know how he even showed up.”
“Power? Are Quirks a thing yet? I'm pretty sure they didn't emerge until the 2080’s…”
“Are you a parahuman?” Taylor asked.
“Wuh?” He just looked confused.
“A person with a supernatural power?”
“Ohhhh, y-yeah I have a Quirk. It's called Super Power.”
Taylor's voice filled with disbelief. “Your super power is called super power?”
Izuku nodded vigorously before wincing from his concussion. “Ow. Yeah all Quirks are named.”
Dad re-entered the conversation. “Do these quirks manifest from trauma?”
“Oh God no! They’re an inheritable genetic trait that usually manifests at four years old.”
Taylor closed her eyes. The powers of second-generation parahumans are usually related to their parents. Brandish has her light constructs and Glory Girl has her forcefield. Though GG also shares her aunt's flight.
Second gens also trigger easier. But for the average trigger to happen at four years old? “Hey Izuku? Is there, like, a specialty organ or singular part of the brain that manages, uh, quirks?”
“Hmm not really neuroscience proved that there is no singular portion of the brain dedicated to Quirks, most studies show Quirked brains are basically identical to the same generation Quirkless brain aside from additional control centers. For example, a heteromorph with a tail would possess a further developed movement center to accommodate it, while a person with x-ray vision has a modified occipital lobe.” Izuku looked down sheepishly. “Sorry, I really like quirks…”
Dad immediately responded. “There is no need to feel bad about your passions, it's human.” A flash of pain was visible across his face. He was quoting mom. Quickly he shook it off. “My little owl loves books and I'm a union nerd, you're in like company Izuku.”
Izuku smiled at the warm welcome from the Hebert family, barely containing Midoriya tears kept within his skull through pure will.
The door opened, causing the group to snap towards the threshold. The figure’s footsteps were like thunder, heavy midnight-blue armor shaking the floor. Atop the man’s head was a helmet that opened up to show his mouth and beard, a silver visor covering the nose up. In silver accents, the same shape was the chest emblem.
2011 has Heroes?! What else could the stylish armor of the man before him be if not a hero costume.
The hero's weapon drew Izuku’s eyes. A halberd with the same color scheme, the transition between the blade and pole a little more chunky than a mundane weapon.
Support gear most likely.
“Midoriya, Hebert family. For those that aren't aware, I am Armsmaster. By orders of the PRT ENE Director, you three are to be brought in for questioning and power testing.” The man’s voice was stern and authoritatively muted. The comparison to the Number Two hero came easy to Izuku.
Mr. Herbert addressed a rightful concern. “Isn't power testing usually voluntary?”
Armsmaster faced the other man. “There have been concerns on the nature of Midoriya’s arrival as well as any lingering influence.”
Oh shoot! Izuku completely forgot about the implications of time travel! Like disease or radiation. He really hoped he didn't give anyone a super plague, being vaccinated didn't always mean you weren't a carrier.
Though the grimace on the Herbert family's faces might point to something else.
Still the group was lead into three separate black vans. Izuku didn't really get why Mr. Herbert was being brought with them. However the most distressing aspect of the whole ordeal is the tall man sitting across from him.
“Armsmaster, sir, may I ask a few questions?”
The man was silent for a moment before giving a grunt. Izuku, having been raised alongside Bakugo Katsuki, easily recognized the affirmative tone.
“The powers that some people possess, is there a unified name?”
“Nothing other than parahuman abilities or power.”
The boy nodded, hands itching to write down the new information. “How common are parahumans?”
“In urban centers, the ratio is eight thousand to one, Brockton Bay however has slightly elevated metrics.”
“And what is the mechanism for p-”
“Forty percent of the population possessed a region of the brain called the Corona Pollentia, a fraction of a fraction of those individuals trigger and develop the Gemma. The former grants abilities, the latter is the control mechanism.” Armsmaster adjusted the placement of his halberd before speaking once more. “You claim to be from a different Earth.”
“I do.”
“Are you really?”
“Of c-course.”
“You possess both a Corna and a Gemma.” With that said the van stopped, Armsmaster leaving the door in haste as I stared in shock.
The implications alone of a formerly quirkless individual possessing a power granting brain mutation either means that however Bet differentiates from my own world is not as divergent as we first thought or the method of travel I achieved changed my physiology during the method of transportation. There is however the possibility of being artificially given a Corna and Gemma while I was unconscious but that would be far fetched. There is also the possibility that whatever mechanism that this new world achieves its power and that of quirks are similar to the point that crossing over makes one the other. Without the possible tools here to check for Quirk Factor there would be no way of telling if Super Power became my own parahuman ability. During my Quirk testing I was never put under an MRI or similar apparatus so there is also the asinine idea that I was born with a Corona and awakening Superpower granted me my Gemma. Though the implication that Taylor provided about traumatic awakening should mean I would have naturally triggered either after the quirk test or even on the roof with All Might. Therefore we can rule out a preexisting Corona, leaving with the Quirk transformation theory, the transportation theory, or the surgery theory. But there is also the possibility that Super Power is unique and contains a Corona as a part of its manifestation. Though that can't be proven unless I return…
Izuku turned to the PRT agent gawking at him from the open van door. The woman mutters something about thinking before ushering Izuku inside.
Before Izuku entered the doors of the compound he found himself in he glanced at the environent. The smell of the ocean suggested they were near or off cost. The architecture of the entrance was reminiscent of both a oil rig and a corporate office. A peak over his shoulder revealed a glowing force field around structure.
The most notable innovation of the 2010s was the integration of the internet through handheld phones, not barriers of hard light with enough energy efficiency that a singular small nuclear fusion reactor could power one. Oh right, and nuclear fusion wasn't refined until the 2040s.
Definitely not in my own worlds past.
Izuku entered the building. It was almost like a hero agency. Somewhere between a local agency and a top one fifty location. He was lead by his guide to a small inlet where a basket of what appearred to be prepackaged disposable domino masks. Why not just use a surgical mask? It would probably be cheaper to by those in bulk from a hospital supplier than where else they got them from.
Though, if the compound had tours similar to hero agency than the extra spendature on them cou- “Please put it on.”
“Oh right, sorry.” It felt a little itchy but he had worn worse hero merch before.
Still separated from the Heberts, Izuku was brought into what could best be described as a interrogation room. Blank concrete walls, uncomfortable folding chairs, and the black reflection of a one way mirror.
He was left alone in the room for, at his count, three minutes and forty eight seconds, at which point another agent walked into the room and took a seat across the flimsy table.
The brunette was dressed in a black suit with body armor reading ‘PRT’ painted on. His wrist was mounted with a white bracket with a thick oval interface decorated by a few buttons.
“Name.”
“Mi- sorry, Izuku Midoriya.”
“Date of birth.”
“July 15th, 2198.”
“Home address.”
“Um, not applicable because I'm from the future?”
“Just state your city of occupancy at the very least.”
“Mustafu, Japan.”
“What color is the sky?”
“Blue?”
“When I say the word bark, you think of?”
“A dog?”
“Would you like a cup of water?”
“No thank you.”
“Mr. Midoriya, what do you last remember?”
“I was already asked this question.”
“Please repeat anyway.”
“It was March 14th. I was participating in the entrance exam for UA High. There was an academic test and then a practical test involving robots we had to destroy for points. I couldn't get any points but when a massive robot came to force us to evacuate I saved a girl trapped under some rubble by destroying the Zero Pointer, the robot. Then I fell through the ground, like I was a ghost, and headbutted something metal.”
“And from where you come from people possess powers known as quirks?” Izuku nodded. “Please describe your quirk.”
“Super Power is an energy stockpiler that took me until recently to access without threatening my life. It allows me to jump high or punch really hard at the cost of breaking my limbs.”
“Do you know what a Manton Limit is?”
“No.”
“When did you acquire your quirk.”
“Usually people get their quirks at 4 years old, I couldn't use my quirk until very recently.”
“Could you clarify the first time you used it?”
“Against the Zero Pointer. I'm a late bloomer, I had a quirk but couldn't use it.”
“Do you recognize the name Scion?”
“Not really.”
“What are the major global events of the twentyth century?”
“Uh, there isn't a lot kept from Pre-Quirk culture after the Quirk Wars. But I do know there was the First and Second World War.”
“Please turn to the glass.” Izuku complied. “An image will appear and I want to know the first word that comes to your mind when you see it. I may ask for clarification, please do comply. When speaking down turn away from the glass.”
A picture of a dog appeared. “Dog.”
Is the glass a screen? It looks like a one way mirror flush with the wall. The dissonance was kinda peculiar.
A picture of a forest appeared. “Nature.”
A dead animal. Probably roadkill. “Gross.”
A picture of Earth. “Earth.”
A picture of phone. “Call.”
An apple. “Fruit.”
A fish. “Water, is this really necessary?”
“Please follow directions.”
A comic with a man in a blue suit. “Hero.”
A stock image of coins and bills. “Greed.”
A picture of a person. “People.”
A person crying. “Sadness.”
A person laughing. “Joy.”
A picture of Taylor Hebert. “Taylor.”
A picture of Armsmaster. “Endeavour.”
“Who is Endeavor?”
“A hero from my time period, he has a fire Quirk.”
A picture of a man with golden hair. Dressed in a white and gold body suit. He floats above a city like a guardian angel. “All Might.”
“Another hero?” Izuku nods.
A paint pallet. “Art.”
The images stopped appearing. “You can look away now.” Izuku blinked several times, a minor pain at the back of his eyes.
“Who is Taylor Hebert to you? Describe in three words.”
“Stranger, book… hospital?”
“If we were to detain Ms. Hebert, how would you react?”
“Confused. She seems like a good person, though I would need to know her longer to be sure. It sounds like she went through… you all called it a Trigger Event. Is she in trouble?”
“That remains to be seen.” “Why?”
The grey eyes of the agent stared through Izuku. “Why are you asking?”
“Because I'm curious and what to know what is going on.”
“Mr. Midoriya, in this time there are twelve power classifications, this is a standard procedure to make sure you are not under the effects of a certain two.”
“What mind control?”
The man nodded. “It's possible.”
“And how do you know I don't have mind control either?”
“We have our ways.” They must be testing the others with similar tests then.
“What happens to me?”
“Depends on the outcome of the tests. What did you eat for your sixth birthday?”
Izuku’s face scrunched at the sudden switch. “Katsudon, a breaded pork and rice dish.”
“What is your first memory?”
“My father and mother talking to each other in the living room.”
“Please answer the following questionaire.” The man slammed a folder that he was hiding somewhere onto the table. Oh and a pen.
Izuku answered it reluctantly, thoroughly confused by the whole mess. Some questions were repeats from the oral questioning. Others from the image test. Still more are confusing.
An English Language problem, several different of math exercises, many many ethics questions.
To use the term questionnaire on the thick packet of sundry prompts was a insult to all good sense. Still the boy completed it, pushing the twenty page dense packet over to the older man. It took maybe thirty minutes.
“Thank you for your patience, please remain seated.” And the man left without a further word.
Alone, Izuku sat in the cold room.