Such a sudden shift. Two lives, mother and son, twisted and turned onto their heads, Aizawa mumbles to himself, lingering in Chiyo's living room long after the Midoriya's had departed.

Sitting on the edge of the pink cushions of the corner armchair, Aizawa stares off into the formless details of the wall, Chiyo by his side. Shirtless, Aizawa leans against his knees, elbows propped to his side, to allow Chiyo easy access to the bloody gashes across his scarred and worn body. Raised to his level through a workman's stool, she plucks his stitches, replaces gauze, and dresses his wounds, carefully tending to her old friend.

"You should get some rest soon, you've been up all night," Chiyo kindly suggests, "You're free to stay as long as you want, even the night if need be."

Clutching his chin, Aizawa remains deep in thought, Chiyo's voice droning off into the distance.

"Can I be a hero?"

He'd need an internship, but to get an internship, he'd need a nomination… Difficult for non-enrolled students…

Could he be a hero?

It isn't rational but…

"Aizawa?"

Jerking his head back, he looks at his elderly friend, eyebrows raised in response.

"You're considering what young Midoriya asked, aren't you?"

Shocked at Chiyo's accuracy, Aizawa's face twitches, his lips loosening.

His familiar tell.

"Oh Aizawa, always trying to act so aloof," Chiyo shakes her head endearingly, pulling a set of bloody bandages from Aizawa's arm, "and yet you've always been such a softy. Running off to save another civilian, always the model hero."

"So, the boy wants to be a hero?" She follows up with before spinning herself around her stool.

Behind her, Chiyo pulls a wet hand-towel from a bowl of hot water resting on a small side-table. Wringing the excess water into the bowl and turning back towards Aizawa, she drags the warm towelette across the wounds and scabs on his back.

Barely wincing, Aizawa continues to focus his gaze at the wall.

"I've never seen anything like it. Before he even developed his quirk, he lept into action," turning to Chiyo, he looks his friend firmly in the eyes with a remarkably serious expression, "He saved that woman's life on a whim, regardless that he was quirkless."

Returning the gaze, Chiyo nods in response, continuing to wrap Aizawa's arms in bandages, "Sounds like a natural born hero to me."

Turning his head towards his bruised and scabbed hands, he inspects his split knuckles and shredded palms.

"He saved my life."

Clenching his fists, Aizawa shakes his head in disbelief.

"No!"

Aizawa's cruel hiss echoes throughout his mind.

"A quirkless boy saved my life."

The same day.

He saved my life the same day I told him he could never be a hero.

"Izuku Midoriya saved my life."

Chiyo stops, cocking her head to inspect Aizawa's reactions.

"So, what'll you do? The boy missed the date for enrollment and it won't do him any good for me to sponsor him, he'd just be locked up in an office all day tending to patients, and we both know you can't sponsor him. I can chip a word in at work, but first, he needs some training with that quirk. Who knows what he can do with all of that," Chiyo comments, wringing the towel free of old blood.

Aizawa clutches his chin, lost within his own thoughts.

A natural-born hero…

Yes, Chiyo, you're right.

He does need training.

It's only rational.

KA-CHUNK.

The door to the Midoriya apartment unlocks, light seeping into the shady living room as Inko leads the way.

"Go ahead and get some rest, wherever you'd like," Inko instructs her son.

Looking over her shoulder at Izuku, Inko smiles cheerfully.

"Whatever you need, I'll bring. You just need time to relax for now and then we can find out all about that new quirk of yours!" His mother giggles to herself, a smile bursting from her cheeks upon spouting the word quirk.

For someone that had been so panicked about her son's disappearance, Inko is taking Izuku's current condition in strides. Following behind his mother, Izuku steps into his home, his body still aching and creaking from the recent stress.

Comfortable and affordable, the delicately prepared and regularly cleaned living room sparkles in the light. Walking through, Izuku's four-throng vision easily adapts and accommodates to the familiar setting. Brushing the very edges of his fingertips against the wall, the tactile grip tugs against the paint. Making sure not to damage the wall of his precious home, Izuku can feel his fingers gently sticking against the plaster.

Reaching a slow standstill, Izuku studies the details of his home.

Directly attached, the kitchen and living room have barely any breathing room, the wooden dinner table mere inches from the couch. Behind the table, a tall glass case is propped up against the wall, each shelf adorned with dozens of framed photos of Inko and Izuku.

No sign of his father in any.

Motionless, Inko stands with a cheerful yet nervous smile in the kitchen. Anxiously watching her son, she awaits any reaction from the recently empowered Izuku.

As he inspects the room, his eyes flutter around the premises before resting on his mother.

His eyes... They move so quickly! Inko mutters to herself, stunned by the rapid darting of his quadrilateral irises.

"Is-Is something wrong?" He asks, concerned by her behavior. As she stands, her eyes bubble up with tears, peering at her son. Something about him seems... So confident.

Watching his mother tear up, Izuku rushes over.

Gently grasping Inko's arms, careful not to touch the delicate fabric of her sweater with his fingertips, she moves his hands to wipe the tears from her eyes.

"I'm so sorry Izuku… I told you all the wrong things when you were a kid. I should have done more for you, told you different things, be there for you in ways that I wasn't!" She berates herself as she sobs. Pulling her closer into his arms, Izuku looks up at the framed photos of him and his mother.

Together when he was an infant, dressed in a baby blue onesie.

At his fifth birthday, where Inko lovingly prepared him a custom All Might cake.

His eighth birthday, Inko dressed in an All Might outfit along with her son.

Twelfth birthday, the two at a midnight premiere of Endeavor's newest film.

Junior high graduation, Izuku sheepishly standing by his mother's side, a bow tie rebelliously worn along with his routine uniform.

As she sobs into her son's shoulder for her failures, words burst from Izuku's mouth.

"Mom, please don't cry! You did everything you had to and more! You've never let me down!"

Looking up from her tears, Inko gazes at her son curiously.

With tears of his own dropping from his face, he confidently answers her concerns.

"Without you, I wouldn't know what a hero is!"

As the shock flows over Inko, her tears stop. Raising her head, she fixes her gaze on Izuku.

Eyes meeting, Inko's eyes dance as they try to keep up with Izuku's divided irises.

Processing his words, tears flow from her eyes again, a torrent of salty drops. Overcome with emotion, she wraps her arms around her son, pulling him closer to her.

Clutching his mother gently, Izuku pushes his cheek against the top of her head, her green hair scrunching up against his freckled face.

Gentle, hot tears bubble from his eyes, dripping from his face onto Inko's head.

"Th-Thank you Izuku… Thank you," his mother stumbles out, her tears slowly subsiding. Standing back from her son's grasp, she wipes the final few tears from her eyes with a smile.

"I just… Was so worried about you, I thought I drove you away. And to see you now… I was just so worried…" Inko looks down somberly.

"Go ahead, you need some rest," she says, looking up at her son. Izuku nods, wiping the snot away from his nose with his sleeve.

Lingering for a second, Izuku nods again before walking out of the kitchen and into the hallway. Shuffling slowly after him, Inko leans forward from the archway to watch Izuku enter his room.

One day.

One day can make a world of difference.

Standing in his familiar room, Izuku's adapted to his new form of eyesight, only occasionally experiencing a dizzy spell. However, the bright colors of his many All Might posters don't help.

Shaking his head and approaching his bed, Izuku throws himself atop the blue comforter, the springs of the bed bouncing upon the sudden impact.

Laying back, Izuku lets out a sigh of relief. Closing his eyes, Izuku relaxes.

Finally, some rest…

Taking a deep breath, Izuku's eyes open with a sudden jerk.

Have I smelt this bad all day?

Lifting his head awkwardly, Izuku tugs his black overcoat towards his nose. Taking a big whiff of an abhorrent cocktail of B.O., dried blood, and vomit, Izuku practically snaps his neck in revulsion. Breaking the trance, Izuku pushes himself off his bed, desperate to get these clothes off.

Peeling the shirt off his back despite its futile efforts to stick to his skin, Izuku throws the shirt into the hamper after a momentary struggle to pry it from his fingertips.

Wait.

With a hand out-stretched from the toss, Izuku notes something strange.

The cuts and abrasions that originally tore across his arms are gone, sealed by flaky clusters of skin.

This wasn't Recovery Girl.

Turning his arm around, Izuku studies the path of where the former wounds used to be. All along the trail, clusters of dried skin flake upwards, similar to dandruff.

With his other hand, Izuku runs a finger across the cluster. As the finger drags across the flakes, they gently pull off from his body, scattering to the floor.

What?

Looking down at his chest and abdomen, the same flakes of skin linger over where former bruises, abrasions, and lacerations had prior been.

Tapping the former wounds indicates no pain, only the sensation of flakes pulling from the surface.

Is this… Can Spiders… Is this a part of my quirk?

Shaking his head in disbelief, Izuku walks towards his desk, throwing his laptop open with sudden and jerky movements. The screen momentarily sticks to his thumb but after a few, careful jerks, breaks free.

Investigating his keyboard, Izuku gulps.

Gently trailing a nail against the trackpad, he opens Internet Explorer before going to type into the search bar. Realizing the amount of danger his fingertips hold in regards to his perfectly functioning keyboard, Izuku curls his fingers inwards to type with his knuckles.

Tapping one letter at a time, Izuku sucks his lips into his mouth, nervously maintaining his careful movements.

C-a-n

Space.

S-p-i-d-e-r-s

Space.

R-e-g-e-n-e-e

Shit.

Delete.

R-e-g-e-n-e-r-a-t-e

Return.

As the results load, multiple articles pop-up across the screen as well as a small description at the top of the screen:

" If a spider is unfortunate enough to lose a leg, then provided it still has at least one more molt left in its life cycle, it's able to grow a new leg. In most species the new leg is thinner and shorter than the original leg. It can take two or three molts until the regenerated limb matches the original in appearance."

Molt?

Looking at the flakes of skin in the palm of his hand, Izuku's eyes widen.

I'm… molting!

Shaking his hand back and forth, the flakes of skin drift towards the floor. Pacing, Izuku ponders the meaning of this recent development.

"If spiders molt to grow, shedding their skin all in one go, then with a human's anatomy, where we continuously lose and grow more skin cells, that means I'm perpetually molting. But instead of just making myself larger and larger with each 'molt', due to my mammalian physiology, the molting must have…" He drags his hand across his former wounds.

Without the cluster of flakes, the skin underneath is smooth and soft. Tender to the touch.

"The molting advanced my healing rate. I have enhanced healing!" Izuku's expression transforms from one of pondering to shock and then to joy.

A smile cracks across his face.

Just another power to add to the list.

The quirk that keeps on giving.

And then, another big whiff of his body odor.

I really should go shower.

Opening the door from his room to the hallway with a gentle tap of the back of his wrist, Izuku heads to the bathroom, temporarily dressed in a white undershirt.

Upon stepping into the hallway, Izuku's ear catches the sound of... Inko's voice?

Who would she be talking to?

In the living room, Inko appears to be talking to someone, perfectly framed as to keep the mysterious person unknown.

"Oh, thank you so much for coming! He's back now, don't worry. You wouldn't believe the circumstance he's been through! I was so worried for him…" She rambles on.

Confused, Izuku carefully steps forward.

Approaching the mouth of the hallway, Izuku stops, craning his neck forward to inspect who it could be.

Spotting the broccoli-headed teenager, the stranger calls out to him in a familiar, shrill voice before Izuku can even identify who they are, "Hey! Deku! Glad to see you're alright!"

Inko looks over at Izuku in the hallway before smiling.

"Oh Izuku! Look who it is! One of your friends stopped by!"

Standing in front of Inko, Denki Kaminari waves at Izuku. Dressed in an unbuttoned gray jacket, revealing a white shirt paired with a red tie underneath, Kaminari looks incredibly chic.

At least, to Izuku he does.

As the two friends approach each other, Denki offers a hand to Izuku. Reaching forward, Izuku is dragged along into a clumsy attempt at a three-part handshake ending in a knuckle-bump.

Clearly Izuku's first time doing so.

Good thing he did it so quickly! Otherwise I would have stuck straight to him!

Raising an eyebrow, Denki eyes up his friend.

"I heard you had quite a predicament after you left last night! None of us could get through to you, Uraraka thought something was up as soon as you never responded to her texts," he explains.

"Ochaco tried to… text me?" Izuku bumbles out, bashful to ask. His eyes dart to his side, already hidden by his green mop of hair, now extra hidden behind a shy expression.

"Sure! We all did! Wanted to make sure you were all good!" Denki exclaims, failing to notice Izuku's blatant crush, or even the recent developments in his eyes.

"Oh, oh yeah…" Izuku stutters his way forward, Inko cringing behind Denki's back at how awkward her son is.

"I'm okay now though, don't worry! You can uh… follow me to my room?" Izuku asks, slightly leaning to the side in order to inspect his mother's reaction. After Inko flashes two thumbs up, Izuku returns to his normal stance, too sheepish to look his blonde friend in the eyes.

"Sure!" Denki obliviously agrees.

Leading Denki into the hallway and towards his room, the two teenagers exit the scene.

Inko sighs, placing her head in her hands.

I really should have taught him more social skills.