Darkness.
That was the first thing I felt. Not pain, not fear—just an endless, suffocating void.
Then came the noise.
Steady beeping, rhythmic and almost hypnotic. A faint smell of disinfectant. The sterile chill of a room that had never known warmth.
I opened my eyes.
The ceiling above me was white. Too white. Not the soft cream of my old apartment, not the pale blue of my parents' house. Just a hospital ceiling, fluorescent lights buzzing quietly overhead.
I pushed myself up on instinct—then froze.
These weren't my hands.
The skin was lighter, the fingers thinner, the nails carefully trimmed. I blinked, staring at them like they were alien. I reached up and felt my face. Smaller nose, rounder cheeks, messier hair falling into my eyes.
"What the hell…?"
Then it hit me. A flood of thoughts, emotions, memories that weren't mine.
Running after heroes with a tiny notebook clutched in my hands.
Getting laughed at by classmates.
Being told—by a doctor, by my own mother—that I was quirkless.
Quirkless.
The word slammed into my mind like a freight train. Quirkless. As in no superpower. As in My Hero Academia.
No.
No way.
But the memories kept coming. Katsuki's sneer as he called me "Deku." His voice telling me to take a swan dive off the roof. My heart hammering as I stood there, wind whipping against my face.
Then—All Might. My idol. The man I looked up to more than anyone else. Telling me to give up. That I couldn't be a hero.
The last piece clicked into place. The reason I was in this hospital.
Izuku Midoriya—no, I—had jumped.
I gripped the bedsheets, breathing hard, trying to keep myself grounded.
I wasn't Izuku. I wasn't some bullied teenager from this world. I was… I was me. Or at least I had been, once. A normal guy who lived in a normal world, who watched this story play out on a screen. I had watched the anime till the U.A. school festival arc.
But right now?
Right now, I am Izuku Midoriya.
And I am alive.
I stared at my hands again, trying to reconcile the two realities. Part of me wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all. Another part wanted to cry.
Izuku's memories weren't just thoughts. They were feelings. The sting of every insult, the ache of every lonely night, the desperate, all-consuming dream of being a hero.
And the shattering despair when that dream was crushed.
I lay back down, staring at the ceiling, my chest tight.
This kid had been through hell.
And now… now his body was mine.
Was this a second chance?
A curse?
Or the punchline of some cosmic joke?
I didn't know.
The door creaked open.
I turned my head, still trying to calm my racing thoughts, and froze.
She stood there—short, round-faced, with green hair a shade darker than mine, wearing a plain cardigan that looked wrinkled from too many hours of wear.
Inko Midoriya.
Izuku's mom. My mom…?
Her eyes widened when she saw me sitting up. For a heartbeat, she just stood there, as though her brain was struggling to catch up with what she was seeing.
Then she broke.
"Oh, Izuku!"
She rushed forward, nearly tripping over herself, and wrapped me in the tightest hug I'd ever felt. She smelled faintly of detergent and sleepless nights. Her whole body shook as she sobbed into my shoulder, her tears soaking through the thin hospital gown.
I didn't know what to do. My arms moved on their own, wrapping around her gently.
Her crying wasn't quiet or pretty—it was raw, jagged, the kind that comes from being scared beyond belief. And as I held her, something inside me twisted painfully.
I had seen her cry before—in the anime, on a TV screen—but this? This was real. This was a woman who almost lost her son.
Who almost lost me.
After what felt like forever, she finally pulled back. Her face was a mess—red, blotchy, with tears still streaming down her cheeks—but she was smiling.
And then— SMACK!
The sound echoed through the room.
My cheek stung, and I blinked at her in shock.
"D-Don't you ever—EVER—do something like that again!" she shouted, her voice trembling as much as her hands. "Do you have any idea what you put me through?! What I—I nearly lost you, Izuku! What would I have done if—if—"
Her voice cracked, and she covered her mouth with one hand, trying to hold herself together.
I just sat there, stunned.
Then, slowly, painfully, it hit me.
The memories of Izuku standing on that rooftop, crying so hard he could barely breathe, the way he had jumped without thinking, just wanting the pain to stop. He hadn't thought about her. About what it would do to his mom—the only person in the world who had never given up on him.
I swallowed hard.
"I… I'm sorry, Mom." The words came out shakier than I expected, my voice catching in my throat. "I wasn't thinking. I—I didn't think about what it would do to you. I… I was stupid."
Her eyes softened, but she still looked like she wanted to both hug me and shake me until my teeth rattled.
"You're not stupid," she said, her voice barely above a whisper now, "you're my baby. And I can't lose you. Ever."
My chest felt heavy. I didn't know if it was guilt or relief—maybe both.
"I promise," I said quietly. "I won't do it again."
For a few minutes, we just sat there in silence, her hand clutching mine like she was afraid I'd vanish if she let go.
Then the door opened again, and a doctor stepped inside, followed by a nurse holding a clipboard.
"Well," the doctor said with a relieved smile, "looks like our patient is finally awake."
The doctor walked closer to the bed, flipping through a chart on a clipboard while the nurse adjusted a machine beside me.
"Let's do a quick check, Midoriya-kun," the doctor said, his tone professional but warm. "Blood pressure, reflexes, vision—just the basics."
I sat still as they worked, the nurse gently wrapping a cuff around my arm and jotting down numbers while the doctor shone a penlight into my eyes. The routine felt oddly grounding, almost normal, after everything that had happened.
After a few minutes, the doctor smiled. "You're doing much better than when you first arrived here. Honestly, I'm impressed. Your recovery was… remarkable."
I tilted my head, confused. "What do you mean?"
The doctor chuckled lightly. "Congratulations, Midoriya-kun. It seems you've awakened your quirk."
For a moment, I just blinked at him. "…My what?"
"Your quirk," he repeated, as though I hadn't heard him right.
I stared at him like he'd just told me I'd grown wings overnight. Well, okay, maybe wings would've made more sense.
"W-Wait," I stammered, my heart thudding in my chest. "That can't be right. I—I've been quirkless my whole life. The doctor said I didn't have the joint—"
"Yes, yes," the man said, nodding patiently. "I've read your previous records. However, what we observed while treating you was… unusual. Your body healed at an astonishing rate. Far faster than any ordinary patient with similar injuries."
I froze. "…So my quirk is… regeneration?"
"Not exactly," the doctor said, his eyes thoughtful. "Your scans showed a faint energy signature running through your body when you were first brought in. It seemed to form a sort of… protective layer over your wounds, accelerating cellular repair. I would call it more of an energy-based quirk with regenerative properties, rather than pure healing. It might have other applications we haven't seen yet."
Energy-based quirk.
The words felt electric in my ears.
I had a quirk.
After all these years of being told I was powerless, that I would never be a hero, that I was worthless—suddenly, I wasn't quirkless anymore.
It was almost too much to take in.
Beside me, Mom's mouth fell open. "But… that doesn't sound like mine or Hisashi's quirks at all."
"True," the doctor admitted, tucking his clipboard under his arm. "It's rare, but sometimes children develop quirks that are completely different from their parents'. Genetic mutation, skipped generations—it's not common, but it happens."
Mom glanced back at me, her eyes wide, shining with both relief and worry.
I didn't know what to say. Part of me wanted to laugh, part of me wanted to cry, and part of me wanted to punch the air and scream in triumph. Instead, I just sat there in stunned silence, my fingers clutching the blanket like a lifeline.
"Midoriya-kun," the doctor said, breaking my trance, "I recommend you rest and eat something light. Your body still needs time to fully recover. We'll run a quirk registry test later to officially record your ability. For now, focus on regaining your strength."
He gave a polite nod and left with the nurse, leaving the room quiet again.
Mom let out a deep breath, then smiled softly at me. "I'll go get you some food, Izuku. You must be starving."
I nodded numbly. "Y-Yeah. Thanks, Mom."
She gave my hand a squeeze before heading out, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
I sank back into the pillow, staring up at the ceiling.
I had a quirk.
Izuku Midoriya—the boy who was supposed to be quirkless his whole life—had awakened an energy-based quirk strong enough to save him from the brink of death.
This wasn't just a second chance.
This was a miracle.
And for the first time since I woke up here, I felt something warm flicker in my chest.
Hope.
As the door clicked shut behind Mom, silence filled the room again.
I sat there, still clutching the blanket, my heart hammering against my ribs.
I had a quirk.
That single thought kept repeating, louder and louder, until it drowned out everything else.
In the anime—no, in canon—Izuku Midoriya never awakened a quirk. He stayed quirkless, got saved by All Might, and eventually inherited One For All. That was the turning point. That was the start of his journey to becoming the Number One Hero.
But this time…
This time I jumped.
I never saved Bakugo from the sludge villain. I never met All Might on that rooftop to inspire him to keep fighting.
Which meant—
"...Did All Might even save Kacchan?" I muttered under my breath.
The thought made my stomach churn. In canon, All Might had been pushed into action because of me—because a quirkless kid ran headfirst into danger when no one else would. That was what reminded him why he became a hero in the first place.
But now?
If Bakugo really did get captured, would All Might have still found the strength to save him? Or… did Bakugo die because I wasn't there?
I clenched my fists, my palms sweating.
And if Bakugo was alive… what about One For All?
Without me there, All Might had no successor. He still had that wound—still had that timer. He still needed to pass it on before it was too late.
Would he give it to Mirio this time?
He almost did in canon. Honestly, Mirio would make a perfect successor—he had the personality, the skill, the mindset. Maybe this was the timeline where Mirio got One For All.
That thought should have made me feel better, but it didn't.
Because where did that leave me?
I looked down at my hands, flexing my fingers. Energy quirk. Regeneration. A second chance at life.
For years, Izuku Midoriya had dreamed of being a hero. Of saving people with a smile, just like All Might. That dream had shattered once before—but now… now it was back.
Did I still want to go to U.A.?
The thought of standing in front of Aizawa, of sitting in that same classroom with Ochako, Iida, Todoroki—it felt surreal. Almost wrong. This wasn't the same story anymore. I wasn't the same Izuku anymore.
Maybe… maybe I shouldn't follow the same path.
Maybe I could carve out my own.
But then again… if I didn't go to U.A., who would stand up against Shigaraki? Stain? Overhaul? The League of Villains?
Would the timeline even play out the same way anymore?
My head hurt.
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. One thing at a time. I was alive. I had a quirk. That was already a miracle.
And if I truly had a second chance at life—then I wasn't going to waste it.
If I was going to be a hero, I'd do it on my own terms. Not because All Might picked me, not because destiny said so—
but because I chose to.
A faint smile tugged at my lips.
Izuku Midoriya was done being a victim of fate.
This time, I was going to change everything.