Disclaimer:
I, in no way, shape, or form, own the manga/anime Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia or any official affiliated content. This is, after all, fanfiction.
Chapter I — Rambling
If Abihime felt bad about one thing, it was that she had a favourite amongst her grandchildren. Well, great-great-grandchildren. Her only great-grandchild, Enji, had two kids with a third on the way with his pretty wife that he didn't bring around as often as she liked. Her name was Yukihana Rei, and with her snowy hair and Quirk, her name fit perfectly. Just like Todoroki Enji fit her grandson perfectly. Enji was a moody boy, had been all his life, and frightfully spoiled by her grandson and granddaughter-in-law.
She couldn't blame her Kagutsuchi very much about the spoiling bit though.
Her daughter, Enenra, had been… tied up with a lot of the movements—especially changing the term from Mutation to Quirk in hopes of looking at the then rare condition as something positive. It was a nice sentiment but ultimately reverted to using mutant as a near slur. So many young people crowed about how Quirks were amazing and a miraculous innovation from a higher power. That the emergence of these powers led to unity and harmony amongst the human race.
That was a lie.
Soon, the bigots moved to mocking the neon skin, enlarged features and animal like appendages that began to emerge.
The textbooks certainly didn't mention the way people with extra limbs would amputate and mutilate themselves in order to pass as Normal.
Or rather Quirkless—that was the term they used now.
And if that wasn't the new slur, Abihime would eat her foot.
It wasn't quite that long ago when people would protest about putting the colour of their skin or ethnicity down on an application but now people barely blinked at registering their Quirk.
The Quirk Registry was also the single stupidest thing in the history of stupid things.
You could crow all you want at Abihime about the necessity of such an organization, but what good was registering it? All it did was create a record that, quite literally, even a toddler could access. Sure, all it did was tell you a person's Quirk but with ridiculous names like Hellfire, it wasn't so much of a stretch to decipher what exactly a person's Quirk entailed.
Again, Hellfire.
Therefore, a fire-type emitter Quirk which allowed the user to create fire. Easy. Hell? Oh, a very hot fire. And with quiet thinking, you could think up all the hypothetical weaknesses with that Quirk. Especially if you had basic understanding of human biology—not even college level, a single course in biology at the high school level would due. So, it wouldn't take a genius to figure out that a person with the Hellfire Quirk or something similar would overheat with prolonged use—causing the organs to shut down as the body's temperature rose to a level that started killing its own cells.
So, again, Quirk Registry?
Stupid.
Frankly, the only people who should be aware of Quirks and their nature should be medical professionals since they actually came in contact with people possessing Quirks that could affect their physiology. Because even if the police needed a Quirk to identify a suspect, there were very similar Quirks out there already—
"—Grandmama!"
Abihima blinked, dark eyes stinging as she finally comprehended the glare of her own lights.
Her little Tōya waved his pudgy hands in front of her face, little Fuyumi at his side. The two siblings were practically miniatures of their parents—Tõya, red-haired and blue-eyes, and Fuyumi, with snowy hair and coal eyes.
She loved them dearly, but she loved Tōya the most—no matter how guilty the truth of that made her feel.
Tōya reminded her so much of her Entei.
"What is it?" Abihime asked, feeling her bones shift and creak. She was pushing near one hundred ten years of life—and damn it all, she never thought she'd live this long. Nor live to feel the consequences of her young adult life. Abihime certainly did not think she'd end up in a wheelchair but, hey, life.
(Because she was adult, not an elder, Enji.)
"You started talking about Quirks again—except you kept calling the Mutations," her little winter piped up, fingers innocuously weaving into the hem of her dress.
"'Cause that's what they are!"
"Grandmama, you have to call them Quirks now," Tōya insisted, chubby fingers running through thin, silver hair.
"Who said?"
"Our teachers!"
"Please, I'm older than them—were they there?!"
"But Grandmama, you couldn't have been everywhere…"
"Little boy, how dare you underestimate me."
The two of them giggled, Tōya at succeeding in annoying her, and Fuyumi at the trouble—no matter how light—her brother was in. When the two of them laughed like that, together, with their noses crinkling and wide grins, Abihime could see her twins—Enenra and Enji the First. Surely, Fuyumi didn't look related to Tōya on first glance, but behind that layer of childhood chub, Abihime could see the beginnings of the same jaw. The same jaw, the same slim nose and the small purse of the lips. Even the same little ears. It took looking past their opposite spectrum colouring but you could see the resemblance between the two siblings.
Like looking at Abihime's twins.
Except of course she could cheat by noting the eyes and hair.
"Obā-sama."
"Ah, Enji."
Abihime had wondered why the air had felt hotter in the passing few moments.
Hellfire meant pyrokinesis and an elevated body temperature. So when Enji walked into the room, the temperature actually rose a degree or two. A walking furnace if Abihime were pressed describe the feeling.
Blue eyes, like chipped sapphires, glowed unnaturally as the hero stared his children down. "The two of you better be behaving."
"Oh, stop it. They behave better than you." Abihime admonished, reaching for the little ones and tucking them closer to the sides of her wheelchair. Her great-grandson was such an ass, even to his own children. "So much nicer. Thank your wife for me."
"I'm plenty polite," Enji insisted, teeth snapping at the last word. Nice was apparently too soft of a word for him. "I greeted you."
"Oh, was that what it was, boy?" Abihime asked, and if she were any younger her face would perfectly convey the mocking tone in her voice. "All I heard was a demand for my attention. Like always."
Enji grumbled.
He was such an attention whore.
(Suffice to say, the kids' favourite person was their Grandmama—they absolutely loved her.)