Fog.
Then this stupid bright day. Like, aggressively sunny. The kind of day where you're supposed to be outside doing kid stuff, you know? Swimming or whatever. But instead...
God, even as a little kid I could tell something was wrong with all the grown-ups. They had this look. Like when you break something expensive and you're waiting for someone to notice.
All our neighbors showed up. Dad's work friends. The Bakugos from down the street—even Katsuki came, though he just stood there picking at his sleeve the whole time. And Mom.
Oh, Mom.
We're all standing around in this cemetery holding these black umbrellas even though it's not even cloudy. Everyone's wearing dark colors like we planned it or something. I guess that's what you do when your dad dies. Wear black and hold umbrellas and stand around looking sad.
There's this gravestone. It's got Dad's name on it and some dates that don't mean anything to me yet. I'm just... staring at it. Not crying anymore—I think I ran out of tears yesterday. Or maybe the day before. Everything's kind of blurry.
My hand's clamped onto Mom's so tight I'm probably hurting her, but she doesn't say anything. She's still crying. Her face is all red and puffy.
"It's okay, Rei. Trust me, your dad's in a better place now."
That's Mr. Masaru. He's trying to be nice, I guess. Says Dad would be proud of me. I don't know what that means. Proud of what? Standing here? Not running away?
I don't know what to believe about anything anymore.
---
Summer was... I don't know. Empty? Like eating cereal but forgetting to put milk in it.
Then school started again and I immediately wanted summer back.
Because Dad being dead didn't magically make the other kids less awful.
"His dad died and he doesn't even have a quirk."
"Bet he's cursed or something."
"Maybe his weird quirk killed his dad."
Kids say the stupidest things. But stupid doesn't make it hurt less.
Usually I'd run home. This time I just... walked. Really slow. Like maybe if I took long enough, school would disappear or something. My backpack felt like it had rocks in it even though I barely brought anything home.
Mom was waiting by the front door with hot chocolate. Two cups.
"How was school today, sweetheart?"
She's smiling but it's this fake mom-smile. The kind where you can tell they're trying really hard.
I just shrugged and sat down. Those stupid kids' voices kept playing in my head like a broken record.
Later, up in my room, I finally lost it.
I tried being tough, okay? Dad always said be brave, be strong. But I'm seven and my dad's dead and everyone at school thinks I'm some kind of freak. So I cried. Like, really cried. The gross kind where your nose gets all stuffed up and you can't breathe right.
Mom heard me and came running upstairs. She just held me while I told her what happened. Then I asked her the thing that'd been eating at me:
"Am I broken, Mom?"
I whispered it into her shoulder while she was tucking me in.
"Oh, baby." She brushed my hair back—you know that thing moms do when you're upset? "Don't you ever think this is your fault. You're perfect. Quirk or no quirk, you're my perfect boy."
"But what if I really don't have a quirk? What if I really do have some weird one that—"
"You don't."
She cut me off quick.
"You could never have a quirk like that. And if you don't have one at all, then you'll be the most amazing quirkless person ever. But..." She smiled for real this time. "I think your quirk's just taking its sweet time. Good things are worth waiting for, right?"
"How do you know?"
"Mom intuition." She tickled me a little.
She was right, sort of. My quirk—Mom's quirk, the analysis thing—wouldn't show up for years. But by then everything else would be different too.
---
Fourth grade. Seven years old.
The beatings got worse.
I fought back once—gave some kid a bloody nose. Felt pretty good for about five seconds. Then the next day they came at me with three friends instead of just one.
After I came home with a black eye and had to sit in the principal's office, I was done.
"I hate this place," I told Mom. "I hate my stupid classmates. I hate... I hate everything!"
Mom hugged me tight. "We'll find you a different school, okay? I'll start calling around tomorrow."
That made me feel a little better. I went to my room, tried playing some dumb game on the computer. Lost a match. Got annoyed at everything. Grabbed my jacket.
"Going for a walk!" I yelled.
"Be back for dinner!" Mom called back.
"Yeah, yeah."
I didn't look back when I left.
It was that weird time of day when the sun's going down but it's still light out. Kind of orange and sharp. I kept kicking this rock along the sidewalk, thinking about all the crap from school. Every mean thing they said about Dad, every time a teacher looked at me like I was some sad puppy.
Would a new school even be better? Or would it just be the same garbage with different faces?
I wasn't crying anymore. Just mad. Really, really mad.
A couple blocks from home I stopped at this vending machine to get a juice box. The stupid thing ate my coins. Of course it did.
"Damn it!"
I learned that word from Dad whenever he stubbed his toe.
Why was everything against me? Like, everything?
I shook the machine. Punched it. Now my hand hurt too. Great.
Holding my stupid sore hand, I ran off. Not toward home—away from the main streets. Past the park, past the 7-Eleven, down that little path behind the river where the old warehouses are.
Me and my friends used to play there back when I had friends.
I sat by the river throwing rocks in the water. Plop. Plop. Plop.
That's when I saw something move behind me.
I turned around and this hand just slammed over my mouth.
This arm wrapped around my waist and lifted me up like I weighed nothing. I'm kicking and trying to bite and everything but I can't make any noise.
"Stop squirming, brat."
Something sharp poked my neck. A needle or something. Everything got heavy and weird really fast. The world started spinning.
I could hear someone else nearby messing with my backpack.
"Grab the bag. Toss it by the river. Make it look like he jumped."
Then everything went black.
---
When I woke up I was somewhere else.
Not my room. Smelled wrong. Cold and damp and the lights up top were buzzing like dying bugs.
There were other people on the floor. Kids and adults. Everyone looked scared out of their minds.
My head was killing me. My arms felt like they weighed a thousand pounds. Someone near me was crying really quietly—this girl with pigtails, just hugging her knees and shaking.
"Where... where am I?"
She didn't answer. Maybe she couldn't.
I tried to sit up. My whole body felt like jello. The floor was concrete. There was gross stuff smeared around where people had been sitting. One metal door, no windows, pipes on the ceiling that went drip... drip... drip.
Maybe twelve people in here? Some were just lying there. Some stared at nothing. Nobody talked.
My heart started going crazy. Too loud, too fast.
Some kid near me whispered:
"They said we're getting sold."
I stared at him. He was maybe ten, had freckles, his hoodie was all torn up. His face looked... empty.
"Sold?" Like I didn't get what that meant. Maybe I didn't want to.
He didn't say anything else. Someone shushed him.
This teenager against the wall—probably sixteen—whispered, "Don't talk. They get angry if we make noise."
Right then the metal door made this awful screech.
Everyone froze up.
Two guys walked in.
One looked normal. Messy hair, long coat, clipboard in one hand and a cigarette in the other. He looked around the room like he was bored.
The other one...
The other one didn't have a face. Well, maybe he did, but it was all purple smoke. Just fog where his head should be, with these glowing yellow eyes floating inside.
Scared the hell out of me.
Nobody made a sound.
Clipboard guy clicked his pen and said to smoke-face, "Fifteen total. Eight adults, seven kids. All confirmed quirkless. Should work for whatever you guys are planning."
Smoke-head nodded. "They'll do. My employer will be satisfied."
He lifted his hand and that fog stuff stretched out like it had fingers, grabbed the first adult and just... pulled them toward the door. They screamed once—this choking, awful sound—then disappeared into the fog.
Everyone else just shook.
I went cold all over.
This wasn't a hospital. This wasn't some kind of shelter.
This was really, really bad.
Another kid started crying out loud. All that fear, all those screams—they're still stuck in my head.
Someone grabbed my arm. I jumped, but it was just the girl with pigtails. She whispered:
"Please... don't leave me alone."
I wanted to tell her it'd be okay. That someone was coming. That Mom was probably looking for me.
But when I tried to talk... nothing came out.
Because I realized something terrible:
Maybe nobody even knew I was gone.
"I want my mom," some little kid kept saying over and over.
The last thing I heard before they dragged me out was that girl crying behind me.
Then the fog swallowed me up.
---
The hallway went on forever. Dark metal and concrete, like a basement that never ended. Every step the fog dragged me along, my brain was screaming at my body to move, but nothing worked.
Doors everywhere. Some had numbers. Behind some I heard crying, coughing, someone begging please, please, please.
My feet just scraped along the ground until we got to this bigger door. Thick metal with a little window you could slide open.
It opened with this hissing sound.
Inside was all bright white lights that hurt my eyes. Machines beeping everywhere. Metal tables, wires, scary-looking tools lined up on silver trays. Like a hospital crossed with some kind of workshop.
There was already a guy there in a white coat. Had these thick goggles and rubber gloves that went up to his elbows.
Smoke-face dumped me on this freezing metal table and started talking like I wasn't even there:
"Subject appears physically healthy. No quirk manifestation detected. Age approximately seven years."
Then he stuck something in my neck. It stung bad. My body twitched and then my eyes got really heavy, but I didn't pass out. I could still see and feel everything. Just couldn't move at all.
"Paralytic administered successfully."
He moved my arms around like I was a doll.
"Begin baseline testing procedures."
They strapped down my wrists and ankles with these leather bands. Put something cold around my chest. Stuck metal things on my head.
I was breathing way too fast. Could hear my heartbeat in my ears like it wanted to jump out of my chest. But I still couldn't move or say anything.
The doctor guy leaned down and looked right at me. Then he smiled.
It wasn't a nice smile.
"Try to stay still," he said in this fake-gentle voice. "This'll hurt less if you don't fight it."
Part of me wanted to scream or bite him or cry for Mom. But nothing happened.
The machine next to me started humming. A screen above showed some squiggly lines—my heart maybe? Another screen lit up with more squiggles.
"Commence exposure testing. Low frequency initial phase."
This buzzing started in my head. Quiet at first, then louder. Like a million bees got stuck inside my skull. Everything went blurry. Felt like my head was splitting open from the inside. I tried to move but couldn't.
It hurt. It hurt so bad.
White light everywhere. Ringing in my ears.
"Record neural response patterns. Advance to stage two. Increase wave output."
The machine got louder. My eyes rolled back. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. The sound got so sharp I thought my brain was gonna leak out my ears. Something warm dripped from my nose—blood, maybe?
My lungs were on fire. The straps cut into my skin. I think I tried to scream but I don't know if any sound came out.
Then everything went black.
---
Blink. Blink.
I woke up somewhere else.
Not on the metal table this time. I was on this thin mattress in another dark room. My head felt like someone stuffed cotton and glass inside it. There was another kid on a cot across from me—some teenager. He wasn't moving.
Gray walls. A tiny barred window way up high that barely let in any light. A tray of gross food by the door—stale bread and watery soup. Blood stains in the corner.
I curled up in a ball, shivering, and whispered the only words I could think of:
"Mom... help me."
But nobody heard.
When another door opened somewhere down the hall, I knew they were coming for me again.
The rest was just more of the same.
Tubes.
Machines.
Straps.
"Specimen demonstrates resistance to cellular fusion."
"Physical durability increasing beyond baseline parameters."
"Muscle regeneration observed. Subject maintains consciousness significantly longer than projected."
Pain. So much pain I can't even describe it.
Days? Weeks? I had no idea anymore. No windows, no familiar faces. Just numbers and needles and people talking about me like I was a science experiment.
At some point I tried to remember my name and couldn't.
When I wasn't being tested, I floated in this tank thing. Half asleep, half awake. Voices talking behind glass walls about measurements and progress.
Sometimes I dreamed about pancakes and sunshine. But those dreams got fainter every time they stuck another needle in me.
Eventually I stopped dreaming at all.
---
"Subject shows unusual resistance to cellular integration."
"Increase the dosage."
"This specimen shows considerable promise."
"Forgive me, Master. Progress on this subject has been... challenging."
Everything was blurry. Like being asleep and awake at the same time.
"This is not a failure on your part. The child does indeed show... promise."
Some guy appeared through the blur. Bald head, no eyebrows, no eyes even.
"Place this one in stasis. We have time."
His voice... why did I know that voice?
Something tugged at my brain. Then fog pulled me somewhere else really fast. When it cleared, I saw something different.
I was... back?
No, that wasn't right.
I was bigger. Older. Sitting on a park bench. No labs, no needles, no pain. And I felt something I hadn't felt in forever: happy.
That little moment of happiness—sitting on that bench in the evening sun—it all came rushing back like a photograph.
Oh yeah. That was yesterday... before school started up again.
Or was it longer ago? Time was all messed up in here.
I could feel the wooden bench again. Smell fried octopus from the food stand. The way I leaned back and thought, Man, I love my life.
Then—
"Excuse me, young man."
This voice, polite and deep.
The memory got sharp and clear. My head snapped up in the darkness as everything started playing out again, exactly like before.
I turned around like I did before.
There he was.
Old guy. Tall. Hat casting shadows. Gloves. Long coat. Way too calm.
He asked for directions. I told him without thinking. I remembered this now.
And just like déjà vu, everything happened exactly like I felt it would. Months of peace made me sloppy. I barely used my barrier anymore unless I was training, which was pretty much never.
My analysis was under control too. One look should've been enough to figure out who this creep was.
"Obey."
Just that one word, but I heard more. The radio waves digging into my brain had extra instructions buried in them. A hidden command.
If I had to put it in words, it was simple:
"Don't tell anyone."
That was it. The real trap.
A failsafe programmed into every thought:
Don't tell.
Don't ask for help.
Don't trust adults.
Everything cleared up right then. So many stupid things I'd done suddenly made sense.
Even though I figured it out, every instinct to get proper help got squashed before it could really form.
How incredibly dumb I'd been hit me like a slap.
I went to Mei Hatsume—some random support course girl—for help with my situation. I was all worried and paranoid about complications, but I trusted a teenager over my own teachers. Spent a whole night thinking, but every time I thought about going to Aizawa or Recovery Girl or Principal Nezu, I'd come up with some reason not to.
My surprise turned into shock. Then shock turned into anger.
He didn't just put me on a leash. He tied it around my brain and told me to never bark.
The static buzz of his quirk flickered through my body as I watched that final moment at the park: his gloved hand leaving my hair, stepping back, polite smile...
"Thank you."
And just like that, he walked away. A nice old man nobody would ever suspect.
That was the last thing I saw before my eyes snapped open.
---
[Back to Reality – Mei's Lab]
"—LIVE, damn it, LIVE!"
Something slammed into my chest.
I shot up gasping and smacked face-first into a wall of pink hair.
"AH! You're alive!" Mei was grinning right in my face, sitting on top of me like she'd just done CPR on a crash test dummy. "I was about to try jump-starting your brain! Again!"
She held up this handheld taser thing. It sparked.
First I panicked. Then I got confused. Then I felt this weird mix of relief and anger and wanting to scream.
"Get. Off. Me."
____
Enjoying the story? Want to read ahead?
Support the novel and unlock early access to unreleased chapters by joining my Patreon!
💧 WATER TIER (5$) – Read 3 chapters ahead of public releases
🌍 EARTH TIER ($7) – Read 5 chapters ahead, with bonus lore, author notes, and behind-the-scenes content
🔥 FIRE TIER ($10) – Read 8 chapters ahead, get full access to all extras, and vote in exclusive polls for bonus content
📎 Patreon.com/Future805
Even a small pledge makes a huge difference — thank you for reading and being