Chapter Text
Midoriya is convinced that school used to be fun – he just doesn’t remember.
The boy behind him prods his back with the sharp points of mechanical pencils. It’s only annoying in the summer, when he’s wearing a single layer for a uniform. If their elderly teacher notices, he makes no sign of acknowledgement. Midoriya stayed up late yesterday, waiting for his mom to come back from work, and he uses the time right now to gaze out past two columns of seats. The clouds look beautiful, floating in a big blue sky.
His eyelids are drooping, the poking feels like a methodical rhythm of slight pain, and he lets his ears tune out the class. They’re not going over content right now anyways.
It’ll be okay.
“What the fuck?! Shitty Deku! Seriously?!”
A boom rattles the class, and Midoriya snaps up from his seat. His eyes dart about for the threat, before freezing on Kacchan. Other voices buzz under Kacchan's booming.
“Really? U.A.? That Deku?”
“Gotta be fucking kidding me.”
“Maybe he’s been blasted one-too-many times in the head…”
The words are not new, but as always, the shame bubbles in, burning the inside of his chest, making his sternum ache. He drops back into his seat, scrunching his shoulders to huddle as much as he can without looking disrespectful.
He peeks up, and his teacher stares directly at him, dark eyes flat and beady. If it were only indifference, maybe Midoriya could handle it, but there is malice in that stare, cold and so full of utter loathing that he is trapped, prey in the eyes of the predator.
The amount of hate there is the most Midoriya has ever seen in his whole life, and it paralyzes him, forces him to stare back into a curse that eats away at the dream that defines his very being. It takes time, but he breaks away after dragging out the seconds, clenching his teeth and forcing his eyes to squeeze shut.
He pulls himself back into the world with a gasp, letting the teacher continue off from where he ended in language.
Pain.
Pain radiates from his wrist, where Kacchan’s hand is clamped. Midoriya gasps though his teeth, but it’s the wrong thing to do. Kacchan’s scowl deepens, and he sets off another explosion. Midoriya finally screams, and he lets go, pulling away strings of melted polyester.
His wrist aches deep to the bone, but the surface burns with every breeze and movement.
“Whaddya think you’re doing, trying to one up me?!” Kacchan screams, and Midoriya smacks back into the wall, clutching his notebook to his chest with his free hand.
“I– I didn’t mean th-that!” he stutters, eyes roaming the three tormenters. He’s trying to figure out what to say to get out of this in one piece, but it’s Kacchan.
It’s always Kacchan.
Always fucking Kacchan.
Everything that drives the boy is volatile and mercurial and even if Midoriya thinks he’s got one piece figured out the next day what should’ve worked yesterday is getting his ass pummeled.
“I – I wanna be a hero!” he shouts, snapping out his injured hand. He flings out the limb, at first feeling only air burning him, then-
He feels his wrist smear fiery blood onto Kacchan’s face.
Groaning, he opens he eyes to see Kacchan’s two lackeys backing off, staring at Kacchan with wide eyes. With clenched teeth, he looks forward and pales.
Kacchan’s eyes are gleaming with rage, and Midoriya watches them scan his body, looking for the best way to inflict the most pain. Midoriya’s blood is dripping down his face, but he makes no move to wipe it off.
The boy isn’t dumb, and Midoriya knows that. Kacchan yanks the notebook out of his good arm.
“No! No, nononono!”
“It’s a fuckin’ creepy-ass hobby and you know it, Deku!” Kacchan cackles and howls, exploding it between his palms in a small fireball, filling the air with the sweet scent of glycerin and smoke.
“No!” Midoriya screams, and he jumps forward to try to save it, but Kacchan’s not done. He tosses it into the school pond; one last mark on Midoriya’s dignity.
“Why don’t ya’ try taking a trip off the roof? Maybe next time you’ll actually be lucky enough to get a Quirk.”
The three leave, but as always, it’s Kacchan whose back is the widest, Kacchan who invades his nightmares the most, Kacchan who leaves Midoriya the most ruined. Gasping like the fish in the pond, he squeezes his bleeding wrist, forcing himself to go past the pain to shoo away the koi and pull out his notebook.
Flipping through the damp, brittle pages with a wrist, he realizes that taking notes with pencil and waterproof fineliners has paid off – the pages are ruined, but given enough time to dry, the writing will still be legible.
Smiling through his grimace, he slings his backpack on and begins his slow walk home, letting the notebook dangle and dry from his fingertips. His wrist aches and Midoriya realizes that he’s smeared his own blood onto the cover of the notebook. There’s nothing he can do until he gets back home. At least then he can clean and bandage the wound, and hopefully go make a stop at the nearby drugstore.
Kacchan has made him bleed and bruise before, but this time Midoriya wonders how he’s going to hide what will surely be a large, noticeable bandage, and an even more striking scar afterwards.
He sighs and lets his feet plod while water and blood drip behind him. Maybe he’ll spread the rumor that he’s cutting, giving him some control over the information being spread before Kacchan takes over. Knowing Kacchan, he might get too excited and say a lie that’ll get either the hot-blooded boy’s future at U.A. shutdown, or Midoriya’s mother put under needless scrutiny.
The gutters are bubbling, which is odd considering that it hasn’t rained in weeks, and it’s loud for just runoff coming from the river.
Midoriya pauses and glances about.
The birds are not chirping.
He spins on the ball of his foot and sprints in the opposite direction, when his senses grow dark. Slimy liquid forces itself down his throat and he feels his back arch back so much that he feels it might break. His chest is heaving, but no air comes; just more and more of that slime.
“Guess I’ll have to make do with this one for now…” a voice mutters, sounding so faint yet so close at the same time. The burning desperation begins to fade into a lightheadedness, his vision blacking out in splotches as he claws at the air. Another lump of slime invades his body.
No! Get out of him! Get OUT of him!
Midoriya screams and slams himself into the ground, ignoring how the concrete makes his skeleton rattle, vomiting out the slime, gallons of it impossibly exiting his small frame. Only now he can actually taste it, taste how it leaves a metallic aftertaste and how grimy it makes the inside of his mouth feel.
He’s getting in sips of air, but there’s still so much to vomit out, and Midoriya vaguely wonders if he’s going to die trying to expel a 100 kg man from his stomach right after beginning to kick out the bastard.
“HAVE NO FEAR, I AM HERE!”
A shockwave plows into the slime villain, the drop in air pressure dragging the rest of the villain out of Midoriya’s body in one fell swoop. The boy drops to the ground, sucking in breath after breath as the hero (hopefully a hero) pats them on the back.
“Are you alright, m’boy?”
Midoriya spits the last bit of sludge out of his throat, then takes a deep breath and sighs in relief.
“Yeah. I think I’m okay,” he mutters, turning to face his savior. “Thank you very mu- ALL MIGHT?!”
He yelps and he feels his jaw going slack. His idol wipes the remnants of the villain from his mouth.
“Yes, it is me! You’re rather lucky I caught the villain as soon as I did!” he exclaims, holding up a water bottle to show two eyeballs floating in dirty grey liquid.
It almost looks cute, like some sort of mascot.
“Do you think you need medical assistance?”
“N-No! I’m good, I’m good! Um…”
The cotton stuffing his brains from his near drowning is clearing, but not fast enough.
Autograph.
“Can I g-get your autograph?!” Midoriya yelps, stumbling over his words as he darts to his backpack, digs through before screeching in frustration, then running to peel his notebook off the wall of the bridge, which is now dry from the blast of All-Might’s attack.
Before Midoriya wonders if he needs to rummage for a pen too, All Might pulls a chisel-tip marker from his back pocket, filling two whole pages with a bombastic, pop-art worthy signature.
“Thank you so much!”
“You’re welcome! Now! If you’ll excuse me!”
The hero turns around, and Midoriya slips on his backpack with both arms, his hand clutching the notebook so tightly that dent marks are forming. He looks up, and All-Might is about to jump away in the distance to hand over the villain.
He’s about to leave and do all of this wonderful, heroic stuff, much to Midoriya’s awe.
(Much to his envy.)
Midoriya lunges forward and twists his fingers deep into All-Might’s shirt, right as the man breaks the sound barrier and kicks off into the sky.
For a moment, all is quiet.
The sun is gleaming in Midoriya’s eyes, clouds parting around them.
And the sky is so, so…
Blue.
All-Might will always be All-Might, in Midoriya’s opinion, but there is clear worry in the man’s sunken eyes. His clothes hang off his frame, and he sits down onto the roof at one point, where Midoriya goes to join him. There is a strange, closeness to the whole situation, as Midoriya knows All-Might’s secret, but he’s about to spill his heart to the hero now too.
“Can I become a hero, even without a Quirk?”
Midoriya knows the answer even before the man can reply. The way those brows scrunch up with pity and sorrow for this stupid, Quirk-less boy who can’t help but dream.
“I’m sorry, but… I believe that would be too dangerous for anyone.”
Midoriya’s heard this answer hundreds of times, but to hear it from his idol makes it rip into him even harder than usual. His stomach drops down a whole foot, the hollowness somehow physically hurting, while his heart twists with a violent clench, like Kacchan stabbing into him to make an explosion.
The only time he’s ever felt worse was when his mom apologized to him for something that wasn’t his fault.
“I understand,” his voice says, echoing in his ears, and he wishes so hard that his heart would just hurry up and die, but no. His spirit, his dream – it’s all too strong, cultivated into something that’s nigh-immortal from all the mental abuse he’s suffered in the handful of years that is his life.
All-Might seems to be at a loss for words, and he makes a show of checking the bottle with villain for a second, the plastic crunching under his fingertips by accident.
“Goodbye, Midoriya-kun.”
“Goodbye, All-Might. Take care of yourself.”
“You too.”
All-Might disappears down the stairs of the building. As he shuts the door behind him, guilt swims in his stomach as he remembers how Midoriya’s eyes still glittered fiercely in the face of the ultimate rejection. He no longer has the luxury to regret though, and he pushes down the emotion, thinking about how he can help with Mirio’s training tomorrow.
Within the bottle, the villain smothers a delighted laugh as it discovers a crack in the crinkled bottle.
Midoriya waits until he can no longer hear All-Might’s steps, then flops to the floor of the roof. It’s swept clean, and he wonders vaguely if there will be anyone in the lobby that might try to stop him. His head lolls to the side, and he looks at his battered backpack, stuffed with miscellaneous things for school and bits of hero merch.
The clouds flit past in the sky.
“I’ll figure something out,” Midoriya says aloud to no one in particular.
Technically he has eight months until U.A.’s entrance exam to figure something out, but who’s counting?
You are?
Yep, he sure is. He also must be so, so tired if he’s hearing voices.
…
He feels an awkwardness that isn’t his swirl about in some corner of his mind. It’s not his, and it doesn’t make his stomach clench, but it’s as if his mind can touch the edges of that foreign emotion and identify what it is from that.
“Oh my god are you that sl-“
No! I made sure to remove him as fast as I could!
Midoriya jumps up, eyes wide. He tries to remember how he felt before he started vomiting, and he remembers what he thought was more of the villain entering him. Now that he thinks about it though, the texture was different – smoother, with no taste.
As the villain was trying to kill him and take him over, something else took the villain’s place instead.
He takes deep breaths, trying to parse all the little data he has right now:
One. This thing does not want to hurt him; rather, it helped to save his life.
Two. Is this a person with a Quirk similar to that villain? If so, why are they out and about going into people?
Three. It is inside him, holy shit.
He tries his best to focus on one, forcing himself to calm his quickening breaths.
“W-well then! Thank you for saving me!” he shouts aloud.
The awkwardness he senses turns into pride, strong and earnest.
You’re very welcome!
For a voice in the head, it has a clear and distinct sound, low-pitched with a cheerful lilt. At this rate, Midoriya just can’t bring himself to be that creeped out. This thing, whatever it is, is too nice for him to be afraid of. He uses the edge of the roof to pull himself up, and it’s now that he finally realizes that his wrist is completely healed as well. The only remnant now is a large, splotchy scar, shiny with numb tissue in the center while violently red and jagged at the edges.
“That should’ve been a second degree burn. How?”
If I had taken care of it sooner I might’ve been able to heal it more cleanly. It was just that gross body that was in the way, and it’d been bleeding and damaged for a while...
“N-no! This is amazing! It would’ve been hurting me for months otherwise, so thank you so much!”
That scar is ruining your nice skin though, the voice laments.
“I have other ones anyway! You really didn’t have to do so much for me, thank you so much, um!”
He looks about in all directions, as if it’ll tell him what this mystery person’s name is. The cloud over his heart has considerably lightened, as he begins to think about all the possibilities this mystery Quirk hides.
I don’t have a name.
At that, Midoriya frowns, and the being seems to sense his displeasure.
Don’t worry, I’m not human. I’m a Quirk.
“Do you want one though?”
The Quirk in his head pauses, and Midoriya touches his cheeks as he feels them warm up with a big smile. He can feel the Quirk’s happiness, and it spreads to him, full of heat and gentleness.
I think I do, actually. To summarize things up right now, I’m very compatible with you, so if you don’t mind, I might need to inhabit your body for the time being. I promise to explain everything that’s happened to me so far once you’re somewhere more comfortable.
“There’s no way I can just kick you out after you saved my life. Do you mind if I write about you back home?”
It’s the least I can do for someone being so accommodating right now. You’re a very good kid.
Midoriya blushes at the unfamiliar praise, and the Quirk responds to the emotions with more warmth and positivity.
Also, you’re a very adaptive child too! There are adults that wouldn’t be able to handle a situation with as much of a calm and collected mind as you are doing right now.
“N-no, I’m not that great. I’m Quirkless, you know?”
That should not discount your per-
An explosion booms in the distance, kicking a plume of smoke high into the sky, and Midoriya gasps as a faint shockwave brushes against his skin. He scans the area, using the landmarks around to get a general idea of his location, and he whines, soft and full of worry.
“That’s near my house!”
Let’s go then.
“What?”
A wet feeling drags over and coats his legs, some dark green substance eventually flowing out from the opening of his pants to wrap over his shoes. The material is clearly organic, like a thick layer of green muscle that sparkles under the sunlight with a shimmering, iridescent glow. On closer inspection, there are scale-like patterns etched into the flowing surface.
“That’s so pretty. Um, are we… the roof?”
You flatter me. Jumping off is the fastest, is it not?
Midoriya shuffles about with the new legs, eyes wide as he begins to mutter, wondering about the sudden new tissue covering him, and how that can be possible considering the Quirk was small enough for him to swallow and- oh. Right, the explosion.
“Thank you for your help. You honestly don’t need to do this much for me.”
Hmm… the next time I see that All-Might fellow I’m going to yell at him. Stay calm. I’ll take over for now, okay?
“Sorry,” the boy apologizes, the words leaving his mouth before he’s even consciously aware.
His legs tense, then kick off the ground, careful not to crack the tile as he soars off. His body is in a swan dive towards the bottom, but Midoriya can’t help but laugh with glee as they hurtle to the ground. The asphalt approaches far too fast for comfort, but Midoriya is light, and they slam into the ground, his knees bending to absorb the shock.
The Quirk prepares to sprint to the smoke in the distance, and Midoriya goes over his mental map.
“There’s a shortcut if we-!”
The upcoming alleys? I understand!
The Quirk honestly can’t believe its luck as they dash through the streets, sharing in the boy’s enthusiasm. Midoriya’s mind pictures things so clearly, that it can just touch them and know exactly what to do. Not to mention, being with the boy doesn’t strain and hurt them like when they inhabit other bodies.
Also, the Quirk notes with relief, Midoriya seems to not be suffering any effects either, physical or psychological.
A traitorous thought sneaks in though, and the Quirk pushes away the numerous “what if’s” that begin to crowd its consciousness, unwilling to subject Midoriya to such unease. It runs and runs and in minutes it releases control back to Midoriya, letting the boy shove through the ring of people and emergency vehicles until he sees what the incident is.
Cold fear cuts up the Midoriya’s spine, and he watches in horror as the slime villain is now a large, looming mass of grey flesh, encasing and suffocating another boy.
“KACCHAN!” he screams, straining against the people and police tape. “Why?!” he shouts at the bystanders and heroes watching the murder unfold.
Kamui Woods wavers at the edge, vines twisting under his hands in frustration, whispering scenarios to himself. He can’t do anything to a liquid villain immune to physical attacks like that, not without severely harming the boy in the process. If All-Might was here, maybe the Symbol of Peace could drag out the villain if needed, but the man right now is not here.
Kacchan’s screams are muffled, but his eyes are wide open, locking onto Midoriya. His eyes are narrowed in desperation, filled with tears from suffocation, but also from fear.
So, so much fear.
“I’m coming Kacchan!” he hollers, ducking under the tape to dash at the villain. His mind runs through what feels like hundreds of scenarios and theories in a second, when he glimpses the villain’s fleshy eyes gleaming wetly.
He flings his bag directly at the villain’s eyes, praying his weak body doesn’t betray him now. His eyes and coordination ring true though, and the bag smashes into the delicate organs. The villain screams, eyeballs rolling about in its fluids, trying to ease the pain.
“You again?! I’ll kill you- ack! Huh?!”
“I’m coming Kacchan!” he screams again, but this time to give himself more courage.
Midoriya holds his breath and begins to tear out his friend, resisting the villain’s attempts to invade him instead. The boy is trying and trying, but there is only so much his blunt fingernails can do against the rapidly thickening sludge of the villain. A tendril of slime forces its way past his lips.
Oh no you don’t!
Midoriya’s sleeve explodes as the Quirk coats his arm, tipping his hands with dangerous claws. It rips away the villain from Midoriya’s mouth then plunges in, tearing apart the villain with far more ease, finally freeing out Kacchan enough for Midoriya kickback and yank out the other boy, sending them sprawling onto their backs.
He cries out as Kacchan’s full weight smashes his back into the asphalt, sending a deep ache into the muscles. He moans and tenses on the ground, the pain disabling him for a few seconds as a sharp breeze hits him.
“K-Kacchan, o… okay?”
He’s fine! I’ll take care of the pain right now-!
“N-no, you, you don’t… have to!” Midoriya forces out through gritted teeth, forcing himself to work through the pain and drag up his body into a seated position. “Not… safe yet!”
He opens his eyes, and the pain is blown out by shock. All-Might, who had run out of time, stands proudly in front of him in all of his muscular glory, collecting the villain’s red eyeballs to put inside a sturdier container this time while other support services help him collect the rest of the body. He turns to look at Midoriya with an incomprehensible expression in his eyes.
Midoriya frantically tries to decipher the emotions that he sees on All-Might’s face, but to his horror, he has no idea what it is.
“Are fucking serious, Shitty-Deku?”
He snaps back to Kacchan, and sees the boy looking at his torn open sleeve, as well as the healed scar on his other wrist.
There is rage in those red eyes.
The other heroes and paramedics are beginning to move in, dragging away Kacchan first to be checked. All-Might goes to grab Midoriya, when the boy’s blood runs cold.
“Shit, is it my fault?” he whispers.
“Something the matter, m’boy?”
“I’m sorry!” Midoriya yells, before he scrambles up, ignoring the pain in his back to run away as fast as he can.
He doesn’t stop running until he’s safe in his house, the door locked firmly behind him and his body hidden away in his room.
What a shame. I didn’t get to scold that All-Might of yours.
“We could’ve been a-arrested!” Midoriya blurts out. “I think it’s my fault the villain got out and had the chance to attack Kacchan, since I distracted All-Might, b-but I can’t turn myself in or else they’d find out about his time limit and-and ahhhhh, this is a mess!”
Midoriya’s mind is frantic, and the Quirk flits about the boy’s mind, trying to find anything remotely soothing amongst the near-constant anxiety that seems to pervade the child’s life.
Ah, introductions! We haven’t introduced ourselves yet! It says in a hurry, bringing back Midoriya’s mind from the brink of a meltdown.
To the Quirk's relief, it seems to work, and it waits patiently for Midoriya's heartbeat to slow back down to a reasonable level. Midoriya feels sheepish, but the Quirk is saddened by the shame it also feels coming from Midoriya now.
“Oh, I’m sorry. That was pretty embarrassing to see, huh?” he says with slumped shoulders. “My name is Midoriya Izuku.”
I’m a Quirk! Thank you very much for letting me stay with you for now, until I can finesse out some sort of other arrangement.
“It’s no problem, um, you said you were going to talk about everything that happened to you?”
Of course. Whenever you’re ready.
Midoriya’s face beams, and the Quirk returns his happiness with a big dose of satisfaction. It waits as Midoriya frowns and throws away his ruined uniform, shifts uncomfortably at the number of scars on the boy's body as he changes, and finally decides to ask later as Midoriya settles down at his desk. He opens up his battered notebook to a new page, pausing over a large, scrawling autograph. There is blood on the cover and mixed into the pages, to the Quirk’s horror.
“It’s nothing,” Midoriya interjects, before uncapping a fineliner. “I’m ready.”
Even if the Quirk wants to push further, it doesn't, and begins its story.
It doesn’t remember when it became sentient, only that one day, it woke up in a human body. It was in the body, but for some reason, it hurt to be in this body. The body was screaming in pain, and the Quirk also spasmed in the body in agony.
A voice could be heard in loudspeakers over their pain.
“So, it seems that humans are incompatible?”
The Quirk forced the body to turn and face the direction of the loudspeaker, creating new eyes to look up at a section of glass paneling. A handful of beings stood behind that glass, including one in a wheelchair.
“Wait,” a new voice said, “it’s conscious now! That’s not the subject moving – that’s the Quirk!”
“So, all it needed was to assimilate with a subject with actual consciousness in order to awaken itself. Hm, the current subject has a mutation type Quirk, and seems to be reacting badly. It could be that the new Quirk itself is also a mutation type, and it fighting against the current host’s Quirk instead.”
“Wonderful observation, sir!”
Like that, they cycled the Quirk through different bodies with different Quirks. The less those Quirks affected the physical body, the better, but the Quirk’s presence still seemed to interfere with the bodies of host, not to the mention the extreme mental strain of having to share a mind with another being.
So, one day, the beings up high threw in a body with no Quirk. The Quirk went inside, and it was comfortable, and the host did not seem to suffer. However, the Quirk could not talk with this body, nor could it manipulate its form in this body.
It was trapped, and eventually, it decided to sleep.
When it woke up again, it was no longer in that comfortable body. Instead, it was in a glass tube, and it tentatively made pseudo organs to try to see and hear outside. The organs were poor imitations, but they did enough. The being in the wheelchair was speaking to it.
“Can you understand me?”
It traced a ‘yes’ on the glass.
“Good. Understand that I gave you awareness, and that you are currently my property.”
‘Understand.’
“I’m glad I didn’t have terminate you. You are a fascinating creature, but for the first time, it seems that my Quirk is lacking in precision. On the other hand, you have proved some new ideas about Quirk Theory floating about.”
The Quirk made a question mark with its body.
“You slowly destroy a host’s body battling with the host’s current Quirk for full control. A selfish Quirk, you are.”
Hearing those words made the Quirk roll about uneasily in its tube. Just by exiting, it was hurting people? For some reason, that didn’t sit right with them.
“Don’t fret too much. Unfortunately, what you need I can’t accomplish – yet. When the time comes and I am able to provide you with a body though, I expect your full obedience.”
The Quirk bobbed in its tank, hoping that the being would understand it as an agreement, and to its relief, the being eventually left, rolled away by someone else. The Quirk was fed body after failed body until one day, it could take no more.
The beings had put it into a truly reprehensible thing, full of stitched together Quirks that tried to assimilate itself into them. The Quirk took control and then, for the first time in its life, decided to run. Run far away from these evil, hurtful beings, and to run far away to somewhere where it wouldn’t hurt others either.
It plowed the thing outside, then kept running, fighting off the thing’s attempt to swallow up the Quirk. In a stroke of divine luck, the Quirk found a fish with the useless power to breath on land despite having no appendages for land, and transferred, swimming nonstop until…
“You found me,” Midoriya breathes.
Yes. Somehow, I am able to still manipulate myself and talk to you, even though you are Quirkless, and because you are Quirkless, you aren’t harmed by my presence. It’s as if your body is perfectly suited for mine.
The Quirk can feel the gears turning in Midoriya’s brain, and once again, it can’t help but be taken aback by just how intelligent and kind this boy is. All the other bodies he remembers having were angry and lashed out at every little thing, thinking little or just plain unthinking to begin with. In contrast, Midoriya’s mind is bright and vibrant, and his emotions are strong and pure, even if the sadness that passes through him sometimes is extreme.
“I get it!” Midoriya cries out, and he begins to frantically scribble in his notebook. “What you need is a body with a Quirk Factor, but no Quirk!”
It sends a questioning feeling towards the boy.
“Think about it,” Midoriya exclaims, eyes wide as he writes, “You can’t function in a Quirkless person, but you attack the Quirk of a person with a Quirk – what connects those two phenomena is a Quirk Factor! A Quirkless person shouldn’t have a Quirk Factor, which is why when you transferred, you simply went dormant, since there was no Quirk Factor that could be used to manipulate your body. On the other hand, a person with a Quirk would have that Quirk Factor, the only issue would be the extreme strain of only using one Quirk Factor to manipulate two Quirks, hence why you would instinctively try to destroy the other Quirk, for your own safety and survival!”
The boy’s ramblings are hard to follow, but the Quirk seems to understand the most important point.
So, you’re saying, that you must be that miraculous one-in-a-hundred-million; a person with a Quirk Factor but no Quirk?
“The way I was diagnosed as Quirkless was because I had an extra toe-joint – an evolutionary throw-back. I’m still technically part of the generation of those with Quirks though! It’s entirely possible that my body wasn’t that much of a throwback, just one where I had a Factor but no Quirk!”
The boy continues to ramble and write in excitement, and the Quirk decides to simply relax and let itself listen to Midoriya’s soothing stream of consciousness.
It worries about that blood though, and those charred pages. It worries about the hate it saw in that ‘Kacchan’ person’s eyes. It worries about how eager this kind, intelligent child is to dive off buildings and run straight back into clutches of a villain, all for the sake of friend with angry eyes.
It worries about that big, ugly scar on Midoriya’s pale wrist.
RIght now though, those are too many worries to burden itself and Midoriya with. Instead, it merely relaxes, for what feels like the first time in its existence.