Chapter 3: Unbroken
The sound of a hammer pounding against metal echoes from the garage of the Midoriya house, echoing out of the holes in the garage door into the neighbourhood, much to the dismay of the residents. However, the source of the noise cared little about this disturbance, his mind far more focused on his current objective.
Izuku pounded away at the rolled brass sheets, bending them around a plastic mould to the best of his ability. The hammer struck steadily, and Izuku stared at the plate as it shaped around the curve of the plastic facsimile. He was glad his father had invested in a cast printer before his death, even if the model was a bit old, it had saved him potentially weeks of time shaping the mould for the plating, even if that part wasn't top priority.
His arm began to ache, but he kept hammering the plate. There was no time to waste, and absolutely no room for error, if even the smallest calculation is off the mark, it could spell disaster down the road, especially when it comes to this new project. Using a mounted C clamp to hold the mould in place was not the best for control, but given his options, it would have to do.
Izuku sighed, and wiped the sweat off his brow, looking back at the schematics he had drawn. The loss of his dominant hand had meant that drafting was a near nightmare, but luckily the only person that needed to understand the scribbles and rambling written onto their pages was him. He double-checked the measurements of the digits; those scans he uploaded to the casting computer are reliable, but not necessarily the most accurate in terms of measurements, right now Izuku needed precision so he had also done several checks by hand.
The diagram was crude, but detailed, with several notes of internal and external measurements. The greatest challenge would be internal spacing and management of wiring along the internal skeleton, there was only so much space to work with, only so much material available, and every time he thought more closely about the project as a whole, the more daunting it seemed. This was easily the most complex project he had ever made, far more advanced than anything that had come before it. It would be incredibly difficult, and worse, Izuku was on a clock.
Ten months.
Ten months until the U.A. entrance exam.
This was his shoe-in, his golden ticket. It may be hard for him to pull it off, it may be the most difficult endeavour in his life.
But it wasn't impossible. The theory was sound. It had simply never been done before. But there was always a first time for everything.
And he had made a promise…he had something to prove, and the first step to proving that was beating out anyone he needed to to get into the support course.
From there? From there, he had a bigger goal in mind.
Izuku had far more free time available to him now. With his new disability and having finally withdrawn from Aldera, instead enrolling in an online school, he was able to focus all of his attention on his magnum opus. It was actually quite easy to withdraw, the teachers were clearly glad to be rid of the quirkless freak, maybe they had even assumed he had given up. But ultimately he still had to graduate middle school to get into U.A., Though he can't pretend school was ever all that difficult to him. Classes always came easy to him, however he had always had to underperform in order to avoid more abuse from his teachers and classmates.
"Wouldn't want the defect to show up all the students with promise. " Izuku thought, bitterly.
But in an online setting, he could easily deflect his quirk status if it ever came up. He simply did not tell the instructors, and his classmates barely even knew he existed. It was perfect.
Izuku let his thoughts grow stormy, frustration bubbling within. Yes, all it took for him to be treated like a normal human being was for him to withdraw himself from life, living as a recluse and operating solely from the safety and anonymity of the internet. That sure seemed fair.
He sighed, getting back to his work. Life had never been fair. He had just been too blind to see it at first, still holding out hope for a better world tomorrow, that maybe things would get better.
"No man is born equal," Izuku looked down at his stunted shoulder, the vacancy of his right arm causing him to feel a phantom tingling of sensation in his missing fingers, "Some people are born strong, with the whole world simply available to them from the very start," He stopped pounding the brass sheet into shape, moving over to the skeleton apparatus, " Everyone else is left to wallow in mediocrity, their worth decided for them by those at the top," the sheet fitted perfectly into the bicep portion of the skeleton, and he stepped back to admire his handiwork. Instead of the small spark of pride he usually felt when he finished another step in his projects, all he felt was a burning determination to keep going, to finish this project.
He smirked to himself, a fire once nearly extinguished burning violently behind his irises, " But what is so great about being born great? I much prefer to make myself even greater." Izuku looks back at the diagram, preparing himself for the next step.
On the blueprint, a rough drawing of a right arm stares right back at him.
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"With the outer shell complete, it is time to craft the inner mechanism of the prosthesis," Izuku spoke calmly into the lapel microphone clipped to his shirt. Something about the dictation process brought some calm to him, a relaxing sense of familiarity washing through him, "This will likely be the most time-consuming and experimental part of Experiment 573, as there isn't much actionable data to work with available," He laughed to himself, "I suppose that is what you get for breaking the proverbial mould, but somebody had to do it." He moved over to the corner of the garage, where a small object mounted to a table was threading copper wiring together. "Power supply will likely be an issue, to articulate movement at a direct match to a real arm will likely take high gauge wiring, especially if we want to avoid input delay. Calling back to Experiment 572, high gauge wires like the ones used there should hopefully be sufficient." He looks back to the shell sitting on a stand near the computer, before bringing his hand to his forehead and massaging his brow.
"Space is my greatest enemy right now, besides time," he measured the internal space of the shell again, as if hoping that the data would magically change, but to nobody's shock, the values gathered were exactly the same. "The internal cavity, including the endoskeleton, is simply not large enough to fit all this wiring…though maybe…" He opened the shell, observing the internal axle of the arm, "maybe there is a way I can avoid using an internal pillar structure, and replace it with a cage-like structure."
He moved to the welding bench, pulling out pieces of scrap brass, and lowering his welding mask.
"This could work…though it also could not…another wasted day if so."
He looked towards the calendar on the wall.
"9 months left…"
Igniting the torch, he began to change ideas to reality.
"Suppose there is only one way to find out."
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"Test 32 of internal wiring structure." Izuku said, exhausted. He had been at this for the past 3 days, testing the wiring for data input was a taxing process, especially when it didn't work.
2 hours of ripping the wiring out.
4 hours of rethreading new wires.
1 hour of coating the new wires to avoid short circuits.
6 hours of re-laying the wires within the shell again.
Though with the new internal cage structure of the internal support, there was a lot more room available to him within the design, meaning he had some room for error. However every gauge he has tested so far simply isn't enough. It does not supply power nearly as readily as he needs to. The first 6 tests had gleaned no response. It wasn't until the 8th test that he had managed to get one of the fingers to twitch. Though the cosmic insult of that finger being the middle one was not lost on him.
5 days of testing and all he had managed to get was for the arm to flip him off.
Wonderful.
He had actually managed to get the fist to close on test 25, although the movement quickly began to stutter, and any meaningful response was relegated to impotent spasms. In short, the mechanism still wasn't getting enough power.
Theoretically he could just rapidly increase the wire gauge until it finally works, then work back, but by doing so there was a good chance that the entire process would simply take longer. He would simply have to make do with this method.
"Once again, the internal mechanism can only open and close the fist, the programming of more dynamic movement would come once the power supply issue is resolved", Izuku wiped more sweat off his brow. Summer had come with a vengeance this year, and in the relatively exposed and uncooled garage, the summer heat was blistering, but he carried on. There was no time to waste on fatigue.
He could rest when the problem was solved.
Izuku turned back to the arm, preparing the switch connected to the Arcblue nexus. He was lucky that when 572 ignited, the actual power supply remained relatively unharmed. The leather he had used for the straps simply was not capable of handling the heat of a continuous blast. Instead this time, he had a plan that would hopefully avoid that problem.
Izuku sighed, muttering a short prayer to himself, before locking his eyes on the metal hand on his desk. "Alright you hunk of metal", Izuku muttered, "This better fucking work." With no more delay, Izuku flipped the switch, hearing the hum of the apparatus as power fed into the arm.
At first there was no reaction, and Izuku had wondered if he had maybe missed a socket, however, after about 10 seconds, the false hand twitched, before clamping shut violently. Izuku stared in awe as the fist then began to slowly open, blossoming like a flower, before slowly closing back up again. He simply sat, stunned as the hand began to perform this simple grasping motion, but his attention snapped over to the display connected to the nexus, a simple power reading.
The power supply remained steady, hovering to 99% supply before shooting back to 100%. With the unique design of the apparatus, a small fraction of the power produced was fed back into the supply to therefore produce more power, a hopefully infinite cycle of production. So long as the power consumption does not exceed the supply rate at least.
Izuku smiled, a light chuckle escaping his lips before he could quell the urge. Nervously, he pressed the button on the lapel mic, and continued the dictation. "T-test…," He takes a deep breath, composing himself, "Test 32 appears to be…to be successful at allowing for substantial movement of the digits." He looks back over to the power supply, noting the display has not changed. "Power supply is holding steady as the machine operates…p-proof of concept is positive…this…," he felt tears begin to stream down his face, his voice growing husky with emotion, "...this could work…this could really…actually work."
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Izuku fitted the neural apparatus to the crown of his head, the apparatus sitting on his brow, two sensors pressed against his skull, directly over his primary motor cortex. He looked over at the calendar still hanging in the corner of his room.
5 months left.
Progress had been quick since his last major leap forward. The wire gauge had been sufficient at allowing for more dynamic movements. He had tested with waving, finger fluttering, twisting of the wrist and even some simple sign language. Power still remained strong for the arm, so strong he had considered what he could do to add more function to the prosthesis. Though, that thought remains far on the backburner. For now, he can't simply rely on simple programs, that would just be a bionic arm that operates on preset commands, maybe sufficient in the short-term, but ultimately a far cry from his intended goal.
He wanted to go even further. Further than anyone else had managed before. But in order to do that, he actually had to get it to move through neural input.
However, before he did anything more…invasive…he needed a proof of concept. Something to show him it could even work like that in the first place. For now, a neural input wreath and a wireless receiver plugged into the direct port of the arm will have to do, even if the input delay will be awful.
"Beginning test 63 of neural input." Izuku said, turning the wreath on, and connecting it to the wireless receiver. "It is noted the potential input delay of the neural receiver is anywhere between 2.3 and 12.5 seconds for intention to translate to action." Izuku looked at the display, noting that the wreath was reading brain activity at only 78% capacity. "With the limited capability of neural sensors, the input will already be weak, though after this we will attempt a direct connection to the arm from the wreath. The final design will be a lot more…direct…" Izuku felt himself shudder slightly, thinking about the final plan, but shook himself out of his discomfort. He would do this! He would make this work, by any means necessary.
Focusing his attention on the arm, Izuku tried to force the arm to move one finger. A simple action to test the connection, and, as with the last two tests, after a short delay, the pointer finger unfurls from the fist, and points straight forward. Izuku focused on the pinky, attempting to move that the same way, and following the example of the larger finger, the pinky moves in the same way, this time after a slightly longer delay.
Izuku sighed, taking a deep breath, and began the next test. Moving multiple fingers at the same time. He willed the hand to move all fingers out, matching the pinky and pointer. This time it took nearly a minute, but all of the fingers began to move outward. However, he noticed the pinky and pointer also attempting to move up, straining the knuckle joints, and causing one of the tension springs to snap. Panicking, he tried to force the arm to stop, rushing forward to grab it with his own hand, however this only seemed to cause the arm to snap out, ripping all of the joints and warping the springs on the palm side of the digits. Quickly, Izuku ripped the wreath off, and hit the emergency stop, and the arm stalled, the fingers resting at odd, unnatural angles, as if every finger had been broken at once.
Frustration began to boil in him. The past 30 tests had all been exactly the same, and all it led to was lost time as he fixed the damn things back into place! He felt anger overtake him for a moment, clouding his judgement as he took the nearest object and throwing it across the room. It took him a moment to realise that object happened to be the wreath, and he watched as it slammed into the back wall of the garage, breaking against it. It took Izuku a moment to calm down enough to realise what he had just done, knowing now that that would take even more time to fix that problem, on top of everything else he had to fix.
So much lost time, so much wasted material. It all collapsed on him at once.
It felt like a spring snapped in his mind, and he began to scream out in frustration, pounding his fist into the ground as he simply crumpled, letting his rage pour out, as well as tears. It wasn't enough. 5 months wasn't enough!
Maybe this really was impossible after all…maybe if he had had a quirk…then it would have worked…
Before Izuku could let himself grovel any more in his emotions, he felt a spike of pain flare up along his right shoulder, what once was new and terrifying was far more familiar than he had wished. It felt as if his right arm had just grown back, only to be crushed and detonated once again.
Phantom pains.
Dr. Chikafuji had explained that this was something that was possible, especially with how traumatic his injury was. And it was likely that he would deal with this unique cocktail of pain for the rest of his life.
He clenched his stump tightly, as if putting pressure on it would stem this intangible wound, but it did nothing. He stumbled through the door into his house and over to the kitchen cabinets, reaching in and grabbing an injector from the medicine drawer.
Chikafuji prescribed him high grade painkillers for his attacks, something that he had broken into very early on. Placing the concealed needle over his collarbone, aiming for the gap between his bones, he pressed the plunger, feeling the surprisingly long needle shootout into his arm, before injecting the contents into his stump. He immediately felt the pain ebb, as well as an all too familiar sense of lethargy wash over him, calming his mind.
He hated this.
He looked down at his stump again, feeling a sense of loathing wash over him. If only he were stronger…If only he had been strong enough to fight back then! If only he weren't born wrong, then none of this would have happened in the first place!
He wanted to cry, to scream, to thrash and sob at how much his life had failed him, how much his own body had failed him.
If only he were strong…strong like everyone else.
"… But isn't that why you're doing this in the first place?"
He stilled at that thought, lying on the floor of his kitchen, staring at the ceiling.
"Isn't all of this trial and error, all of this pain, to prove to them all that you are strong?"
Izuku doesn't answer his mental question, letting his breathing calm down.
"Or maybe…maybe it isn't to prove it to them… "
Izuku stands up, any exhaustion leaving his body, as he begins to slowly stumble back to the garage.
"Maybe this is to prove it to yourself ."
Moving over to the broken remains of the wreath, he took a deep breath, and sat down at the soldering booth.
He had a lot of work to do…and no time to waste.
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"Test 95 of neural input" Izuku says, yawning as the light of the dawn peeks through the singed hole in the garage door. Another all nighter, it would seem. No matter, he would sleep when this was done…or when he passed out next.
Whichever comes first.
"We disposed of the wireless connection to the arm, and instead have opted for a direct wired connection to the primary motor function of the input port. This should offer a more accurate ability to assess neural information input, at the cost of longer setup time." He looks down at the arm, the new digits carefully re-assembled, "In addition, I installed brackets onto the outer joints of the digits, which will hopefully prevent stressing on the springs." He yawns again, lifting the wreath back onto his crown, and trying to focus his tired mind on the arm again.
"Single digit movement has been confirmed already, so we will skip that, moving directly to the multiple digit phase." He takes a deep breath, massaging the bags from under his eyes, "For now, I think three digits will suffice for a test." Izuku follows his mental command, willing the middle three fingers to extend. About four seconds later, the digits extend, with the pinky and thumb remaining curled. Izuku felt an excitement bubble in him, but quelled it. Good start but no need to get overwhelmed.
"Initial test successful, now to attempt more complex movement. For now, a hand wave would suffice." Izuku then stood up, moving closer to the emergency stop just in case, before attempting his new command. At first, there is no movement, then after about 10 seconds, the arm begins to twitch, fingers extending and fanning out, before the wrist moves side to side with slow deliberate movements.
Izuku could feel his heart hammering in his chest. This was good, this was very good. But now the most nerve wracking test. "With dynamic movement a success, it is time to move on to stress testing." Izuku wiped sweat off his brow, the summer heat having faded about a month ago, and nervousness being the only explanation of this perspiration. "In order to be considered a success, the arm needs to survive exertion, it wouldn't do for it to break down every other day, it needs to be reliable." Any exhaustion has faded from Izuku, replaced with stress and determination. He then willed the fingers to move back as far as they possibly can go, stretching the false fingers out and up. He hears the sounds of the servos moving, the springs extending and contracting, and holds position. He then wills the wrist to rotate in a stunted circle, mimicking the natural rotation of a flesh wrist. He repeated this action for about 10 minutes, every second seeming to drag on an eon, but after the timer goes off, Izuku relaxes, and switches the wreath off.
Approaching the arm, he opens the panels on the digits, checking the brackets and springs for any signs of stress. Apart from some minor abrasions to the brackets, and some very minimal warping to the springs, the digits retain functionality.
Izuku let out a breath he didn't know he was holding, his shoulders slumping as he spoke into the microphone again. "Stress testing indicates some slight warping to structural and actionable parts, though well within parameters. It may be advisable to make the springs thicker, and replace the brackets with something that can keep its shape easier. Though…" Izuku yawns again, adrenaline leaving his body, and a feeling of drowsiness rapidly robbing him of motor function, "...though…I would call Test 95…a success…" He barely manages to get the final word out, before he collapses onto the floor of the garage, unconscious.
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Izuku stood in front of the corkboard where his schematics lay, pondering the various designs that sat displayed before him.
For the first time in a while, he was at a loss of how to proceed.
He had several ideas of how to integrate a neural sensor into the arm itself for a more direct attachment, theoretically mitigating or even removing input delay altogether. These ranged from a simple fishbowl sensor on the shoulder joint, to a direct neural link fed through the shoulder and to the arm.And, theoretically, all of the ideas were sound.
But that was the problem. Theoretically. There really wasn't any way to test these ideas before making changes to the design and to himself…changes he would not be able to reverse once made.
He wasn't one to take risks when they weren't necessary, and although the delay on the neural wreath is atrocious, the design is sound, and the prosthesis functions. He could take that design and run with it, trying his best to reduce delay as much as possible. He could get it close…very close…
But for some reason, the idea of doing that left a sour taste in his mouth.
7 months of work, and he was going to settle for almost perfect? No…no that didn't sit right, that didn't feel right. Here two options presented themselves, both of which would leave the design as perfect as it possibly could be, and he was beginning to have second thoughts?
He was just being a coward. He always knew this was a possibility. That when it came to taking that final leap, he might have to do something drastic…but such a procedure could have…complications.
Best case? He has a connection with no input delay.
Worst case? He…He didn't really want to think about the worst case…
He looked back to the two ideas. The sensor would be more complex...It would take longer…but in the long run it would allow for better flexibility, and more ease of repair and modular attachments. However, the second option is quicker, and theoretically has a simpler connection setup, though it is far more permanent, something he would likely have to correct down the line.
He looked at the calendar…he didn't have a lot of time, let alone for recovery…but there was only one real option.
"Option gamma provides a far more complex design, but for future upgrades and repairs provides the best design to fix problems. We'll go with that." He looked over at the computer chair at the main desk, his dictation writing out as he goes. He swallows roughly, before shaking his head, and resolving himself. "Let's begin preparations for the operation.
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A week of shifting desks and changing the layout of the workshop, and Izuku had rigged a makeshift cot in the centre of the lab. Attaching a robotic arm to the ground near it, and leather straps attached to the side of the chair, and a bite bar angled right above where his head would be, Izuku looked at the setup with a sinking dread. He took a deep breath, and stripped off his shirt. He looked down to his right, the bandages still wrapped around his stump, and began to unwrap them.
He didn't need to wear them anymore, but every time he looked at the exposed stump he felt this sinking feeling of inadequacy, and self loathing. The scarred stunted limb filling his mind with dark thoughts he would rather avoid. However, this time, looking down at the stump, all he felt was the familiar feeling that he gets when a new idea invades his mind.
A need to fix a problem.
He took several deep breaths, staring at the cot with extreme dread, looking over at the other table, he saw four of the painkiller hypos laid out, ready just in case. Everything is prepared…everything is ready…but is he?
It…it isn't too late to back out…to try something else before he…before he makes a mistake…an error that could have devastating consequences…
…But if he gave up now…would he ever really forgive himself?
No…no he wouldn't.
Izuku marched over to the cot, laying himself down, and using a joystick to control the robot arm. The arm lifts the straps and buckles them, restraining Iuzku tightly, he couldn't be allowed to move much, he had to remain perfectly still through the entire procedure. Once the straps were in place, Izuku slowly used the joystick to lift the metal object from the desk, his heart beginning to hammer into his chest.
The object was a fitted metal plate, moulded to a pauldron-like shape. It was simple, save for the currently exposed Arcblue power supply fitted into a compartment into the plate. On the outside of the pauldron, near the joint, is a glossy black glass semicircle. A fisheye lens, fitted to a sensor just under the glass. The plates were moved out of the way to expose both the power supply and the sensor, with notches to attach to the arm. At the edges of the shoulder joint were four sockets, each fitted to extend about 4 inches into the shoulder, with four steel bolted screws attached to them. Under the sensor was a large drill bit, with wiring spiralling loosely down.
Izuku moved the shoulder plate into position, fitting it tightly against his stump. He took several more deep breaths, before turning the dictation back on.
"'What I am about to do…will be permanent. Once it's on, there is no going back," Izuku spoke into the dictation, shivering as he looked over at the hauntingly large drill bit, "but if I gave up now, I would never forgive myself…I have a score to settle…a point to prove." He took a deep breath, looking over to the drillbit poised directly over his stumped shoulder joint, and flicked the power on.
The drill began to spin, and with that active, he let go of the joystick, and initiated the automatic procedure programming, letting the computer take care of the rest. His breathing became shallow as the drill bit approached his scarred flesh, and after several agonising moments of anticipation, the metal met his stunted joint.
The first thing he felt was the unimaginable pain of the drill meeting his bone, he immediately bit down on the bite bar, clenching his jaw tightly on the piece of metal. The drill went further and further, penetrating the fresh bone cap and entering the marrow within. The pain flared even worse, permeating through his every being, and he began to thrash and whirl within the straps. The drill continued on, undaunted by Izuku's wails of pain. Eventually, the base of the drill hit his skin, and the drill stopped.
With that, the next phase began.
He felt more than saw the wires wrapped around the drill bit begin to unfurl, small drill caps of their own beginning to dig into the muscle and flesh around his arm, Somehow, if possible, the snaking of these automatic wires squirming through his flesh hurt even more, he felt his consciousness begin to fade, and could hear the alert that his heart rate is at a dangerous level. He can feel the drilling slow as the procedure begins to abort, but Izuku lets go of the bite bar.
"Override emergency stop! Do not stop now! Now when we are so close!" He grips the bite bar with his mouth, as the drills begin to speed up again, snaking to meet his axillary and radial nerves.
"I'm not done…I'm not done yet!"
The wires meet the caps of his nerves, embedding themselves into him. The cacophony of agony he had been feeling now embraces a new tune, this one a shooting and debilitating nausea. The wires, after embedding themselves into his axillary, radial and musculocutaneous nerve, burn themselves into the nerve cells, cauterising the wounds and permanently attaching themselves to his body.
The tears overwhelmed his vision, he could barely breathe. He could feel his mind swim with nausea and exhaustion, but he willed himself to keep from passing out. The final stretch was here, one step left.
With the signal that the nerve wires had fully integrated with his nervous system, the four screws on the edges of the shoulder harness began to spin. Quickly moving down into the flesh of his outer shoulder, twisting themselves into his flesh and embedding themselves four inches into his shoulder. At this point, the pain was simply an incomprehensible menagerie of numbness, his mind rejecting the sensations of the bolts as they twist themselves into place, tightening the shoulder harness into his flesh and pressing the cool metal onto his skin. With a final sound like a camera flash, the surface of the bolts and shoulder plate release a white hot flash that sears the metal into his skin, burning the brass into his hypodermis, and anchoring the harness with the bolts.
With that, the arm unbuckles the leather straps. Izuku is barely conscious at this point, but he falls out of the chair, knocking himself to the floor as the smell of burning skin and hair wefts into his nostrils, he drags himself over to the painkillers, drunkenly groping at the air, hoping that his random motions manages to grab even just one. Anything to escape the agony that he had just endured. In his weak meandering, he knocks one of the hypos to the ground, the plastic hypo falling in front of him. He weakly grasps the painkiller, before lifting it to his shoulder, placing the lip at the exposed skin just next to the new shoulder harness, and pressing the plunger, injecting himself with the painkiller. The agony numbs slightly, still throbbing in his shoulder and collarbone, but the exhaustion of the ordeal catches up with him, and he feels consciousness slip away, darkness embracing him.
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Izuku wakes in a puddle of sweat and loose scrap metal. Immediately he notices that the light has faded outside, it is nighttime. The pain begins to flare up again, and he grabs another hypo, injecting himself with the fluid, and numbing the pain. He slowly lifts himself up, using the table as a makeshift crutch, before looking over at his shoulder.
The glossy brass shoulder cap sits fitted into his shoulder, the power supply still exposed, and he moves over to the arm laying on his desk. He lifts the arm to his shoulder harness, lining his hooks up to the harness, and locking it in place. He then lifts a plug from the arm, pushing it up to the power supply installed in his new shoulder harness.
"Moment of truth." Izuku says, straining against the burning pain in his arm, and the exhaustion from the painkillers. He slowly connects the arm to the power supply. Immediately a soft humming begins to sound, as plates begin to lock into place. Plates cover the power supply, and then move down over the hooks, further securing the arm into place. A whirring sound begins to resonate through the arm, and Izuku looks at the invention with anticipation, and a desperate hope.
Izuku's heart is pounding in his ears, the thumping of the drumbeat of his circadian rhythm echoing through his brain, as he wants the arm to move.
Immediately, as if not connected with a sensor, the arm begins to move. Curling upward with no delay. He extends the arm, twisting it out and spreading his fingers, thrumming them against the air, before moving them in a wave pattern, and clenching his new arm into a fist.
Izuku begins to cry, sobs of joy echoing along the walls of the garage. He lets his emotions completely consume him, allowing himself to succumb to them for the first time in months. After his sobs began to dissipate, he looked over at the calendar.
One month left before the exam.
Looking down at his new arm, for the first time in nearly a year he finally felt whole.
He could do this.
He would do this.
And nobody was going to stop him…not anymore.