Izuku winced as another scream echoed through the hospital hall. He curled up further into his seat, tears pouring down his four year old face. The hall he'd been told to wait in offered no comfort, with its bland gray walls and beige floor. Hospital rooms hid behind doors lining the walls, nurses running in and out of them. Various machinery was stored within the nooks between doors. Izuku sat in a small green chair next to his father, Hisashi Midoriya.

Hisashi was a well built Japanese man who usually had a stern look about him. Similar to Izuku, he had fluffy forest green hair, and dimples dotting his cheeks. He had bright green eyes, and round glasses set on his pointy nose. Today, he wore a long beige jacket, with a white undershirt and beige cargo pants.

Izuku's breath staggered with each scream that came out of his mother's room. He put his

hands to his ears, trying desperately to block out the sound of sheer agony. He felt his dad put a hand on his back, which slowly began massaging him. The motion felt soothing, it eased the pain from the screams a little. He leaned into his father, trying to take comfort in his warm body.

"Why is mommy dying?" He whimpered through his choked tears. He felt Daddy's grip tighten slightly. He felt confused, his mother was in so much pain and struggle and there was nothing he could do about it. "Why can't I help her?"

"Shhh. Izuku." His father said softly, shifting his arm to start ruffling Izuku's messy hair. "Mommy's not dying. She's just in a lot of pain right now." Izuku looked up at his father through his teary eyes. "Mommy will be fine, everything will be alright."

"But… why does she have to go through so much pain?" He whispered, barely audible. "Why can't we do anything to help her?"

"It's not our place to help her right now. She has the best help she can get with the nurses, and they're gonna take good care of her." Hisashi said calmly. Izuku snuggled up further into his dad, sniffling.

He felt so helpless, listening to his mother screaming. He hated this feeling. It had started 10 months ago when he'd been diagnosed as quirkless. In superhuman society, where 80% of the population possessed some uncanny ability known as a quirk, he was an outsider.

"Sorry kid it's not gonna happen." He shut his eyes, trying not to remember that night. "I'm sorry Izuku…" His mother had said. Izuku began shuddering next to his dad, "I could lose my job if word gets out that my son is quirkless." Izuku opened his eyes in shock at his father's voice. He began crying again, if only I had a quirk. Everything would be fine if I had a quirk. Then mommy wouldn't be in so much pain right now. He actually wasn't sure about that one, but he felt that somehow it was true.

"Izuku, are you ok?" His father asked, concerned. Izuku grabbed onto his dad's shirt tighter.

"N… no." He answered. His dad shifted his hand from his back to Izuku's fluffy green hair, and began stroking it slowly. "Daddy?"

"Yes, Izuku?" Izuku looked up into his dad's sincere green eyes. His dad looked so genuine.

"D… do…" He choked on his words, more tears flowing from his eyes. "Do you love me?" He barely whispered. He felt his dad grow stiff, his eyes had a deep sadness to them. The slight hesitation was all Izuku needed to feel his heart sink to the deepest depths of the ocean. He pulled away from his dad, and looked to the floor.

"I… I love you son," His father said slowly. "It's just that… well, things are complicated. I wish it could be different." A long, chilling silence permeated the air.

"I'm sorry," Izuku finally said quietly.

"For what?"

"For being quirkless." He sniffled. "For not being a better son." He felt his dad bring him into an embrace.

"Izuku," His father whispered in his ear. "You have done nothing wrong. I will always love you, my son." Izuku buried his face into his dad's shirt, continuing to weep.

The two of them embraced in silence, content to just sit there with each other forever. The only background noise came from his mother's screams and the hubbub of nurses running past. Eventually, the screams quieted down, and a woman emerged from his mom's room with a relieved expression. She was a short and stubby elderly lady, who wore a long white coat that extended down to about her knees. Her legs were extremely fat, while her face looked super thin and pointy. The bags under her eyes looked like she hadn't slept in forever. The woman wore her hair up in a tight gray bun and her lips were painted pink. Izuku, along with his dad, slowly straightened up as she approached.

"Excellent news," she said, "the baby is in perfect health."

"W… what about my mommy?" Izuku asked, trying to keep his tears at bay in front of a stranger. The nurse lady bent down on her knees to his level.

"You're mommy will be just fine," She said in a cheery manner. "She's just really tired right now ok? So don't push her too hard when you go see her."

"Ok." Izuku nodded absentmindedly.

"Can we see her?" His dad asked.

"Yes of course, right this way."

"Come on Izuku." His dad said, grabbing his hand. "Let's go see your new brother."

The semi peaceful tranquility of the hallway faded away as they entered the hospital room. Seated in the middle, his mother, Inco Midoriya, laid in a bed holding a little white crying bundle. Inco was a beautiful woman with straight green hair, a round face, and large emerald eyes. Her body was very thin, and she was draped in hospital attire.

Various hospital equipment surrounded either side of her bed. Inco gave a tired smile as they entered the room. Daddy went over and kissed Mommy on the lips. He looked at the baby in her arms, and the crying stopped for a second. He chuckled at him, and the sounds of a tiny chuckle echoed back at him.

"Do you wanna see, Izuku?" His dad asked, looking down at him.

"Ok…" He said sadly, holding out his arms for Daddy to pick him up. In his mom's arms, Izuku, saw a tiny face wrapped in cloth. His skin was so pale, and the lights reflecting off of the child's skin could almost be blinding.

"What should we name him?" Mommy whispered softly.

"Hmm," His father said. "His face looks so bright. How about we name him Ichiro, meaning clear or bright."

"Ichiro." Mommy repeated with a yawn, "I like that, my little Ichiro."