Explorations of a gender-bent Izuku.
Quirkless: An eight year old Izuku goes to the doctor and receives the worst news of her short life.
Midoriya Izuku sat on the examination table of the Shinzo Yamada children's ward, stomach churning and pulse beating rapidly against her throat. Though the room was cold, her palm felt damp where it met the dry warmth of her mom's hand clutched with all the strength her eight-year-old body could muster. Ms. Midoriya, for her part, didn't look much better, the woman's green eyes, the same shade of Izuku's own, pinched in worry as they waited until the doctor arrived.
Moments ticked by. One minute passed, then another, the room silent save for the whirl-hum of machinery and their own quiet breaths. Anticipation and dread left sick knots in Izuku's stomach. She bit her lip and squeezed her mom's hand tighter, fighting against the fear that grew with every passing moment. Dr. Morikawa was taking too long. The tests were already done, right? This was why they'd been called in, right? So why was Dr. Morikawa taking so long?
"Mom…" Izuku's voice was thin. "Everything…everything will be okay right? Dr. Morikawa is going to find my quirk, right?"
Her mom, sensing her inner turmoil, rubbed smoothing circles against her skin. "It will be okay, Izuku." She reassured. "Everything will be fine."
Izuku could almost believe it if not for her mom's smile. Thin-lipped and tense, it was the same smile her mom gave her each time dad said he'd be away a little longer. The same smile she wore when he missed another birthday too busy traveling wherever for work. Izuku had learned to distrust that smile.
The door clicked open. An older woman with salt-pepper hair strode in and shut the door behind her. Dr. Morikawa. She'd been Izuku's doctor since she was in diapers and the familiar sight of her eased some of the tension in her chest. She smiled back.
"How are you feeling today, Izuku-chan?" Dr. Morikawa's brown, eyes were kind.
"I'm okay," Izuku replied vaguely, her attention fixed on the stack of papers the doctor carried under her arm. What did they say? Had they found her quirk? Was she going to breathe fire like her dad? Move objects like her mom? Hope bloomed in her heart, eagerness beginning to replace the dread that had grown in the long minutes spent waiting. "Did you find out? What my quirk is?" The words burst from her chest, impatient now that the doctor was here before her.
"That's why I'm here." Dr. Morikawa teased, but something in her voice felt off. Izuku in her growing excitement missed it, Mrs. Midoriya did not.
"What is it, doctor?" Her mom asked. "What did the results say?"
The older woman said nothing for a while, focusing her attention on her computer. One of the screens along the wall spluttered to life, complex diagrams of bones and cells, and twisted strands crowded the display. "Well," the doctor began in a pleasant tone, "I have some good news and some bad news."
Izuku's stomach dropped. Bad news? What could the bad news be? She clasped her hands tightly, locking her knees together to stop herself from kicking the table again by accident. Could she-But no. The doctor said she had good news. Good news meant she was getting a quirk, right?
"What's the good news?" Her mother prompted, hand resting lightly on her daughter's shoulder.
"The good news is, your daughter is perfectly healthy." Morikawa offered a comforting smile. "In fact, I'd say she's one of the healthiest kids I've seen in my career." She pointed towards a list on the screen. "Immune system excellent, blood work and urinalysis all normal. No missing vitamins or infections, and her hormone levels are in the right range for her age."
"That's good," her mother sighed in relief. "That's very good."
And it was, but none of it was what Izuku wanted to hear "But what about my quirk?" Izuku asked again, fidgeting as she tried to make sense of the stuff on the screens. It all looked like nonsense to her.
"I'm getting there." Dr Morikawa chided gently. "Mrs. Midoriya, you said your family has a history of telekinetic quirks?"
"Yes. On my mother's side, back four generations." Izuku frowned. Why was Dr. Morikawa asking this? Didn't she know all this stuff already? Izuku's heart leapt. Was it her quirk? Was she going to move things like her mom?
"But your husband is an emitter type as was his father, correct?"
"Yes." Her mother frowned. "Though his mother was an anthropomorphic type."
The doctor nodded as though confirming something to herself. "Your family history has created a unique situation. As we had suspected based on Izuku's physical similarity to you, she has inherited your maternal T-types. Unfortunately, she failed to inherit the appropriate activator. Now, by itself, this is inconclusive. Quirks remain poorly understood and the Q-alleles are prone to mutation. Post-pubescent manifestation is not unheard of, but…"
But what? Izuku's mind spun as her mom continued questioning the doctor. What did the doctor mean? T-types? Quails? Post-what's it? Did that mean she was going to be a telekinetic like her mom? Or grow claws like grandma? Her chest felt tight and she fought not to squirm. The doctor didn't sound happy. Her mom didn't look happy. What was it? Why wasn't her mom looking at her?
"Mrs. Midoriya, Izuku-chan, you see the screen here?"
Izuku's eyes snapped towards the screen. "Are those my feet?" She frowned in confusion. Her feet? Why were they looking at her feet?
"Yes." The doctor confirmed. "Those are your feet Izuku-chan. You see the toe here?" She pointed towards a space where the pinky toe would be. "There are two joints here." The doctor brought up a different diagram to the left. "Most neo homo sapiens—sorry quirk users- have one joint that looks like this. It is the most common indicator of potential quirk development." Izuku got up to look closer and saw her mom do the same. Up close, she could clearly see where the toe broke into three parts compared to the two parts in the diagram.
"What does this mean?" Izuku heard her mom say, but she was barely listening.
Her mind instead was in turmoil. Dreams and nightmares clashed as she struggled to understand what all this meant. She had been waiting weeks for this day, anxious and excited to learn just what amazing ability she would call her own. But standing there before the flickering screens, watching as Dr. Morikawa spoke to her mom in her grown-up voice, Izuku was afraid. She didn't understand. Was something wrong with her feet? What were those pheno-thingies? And why did mom look like she was going to cry?
"Mom?" It was a plaintive appeal. Both mother and doctor stopped, turning to look at her. An ugly thought occurred to her. More nightmare than reality. She didn't want to think it. Didn't want to know.
"Izuku…." Her mother's eyes were glistening with unshed tears.
"Mom? What's wrong?" Izuku's stomach sank. "What did the doctor mean?"
"Izuku," her mother cried, her warm arms enveloping her in a hug, "Izuku, I'm sorry." Sorry? Why was her mom sorry? What happened? "Izuku, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. It's my fault. It's all my fault" Her mother heaved a shuddering breath. "You…You don't have a quirk."
Izuku's head felt funny. Her body light and heavy at the same time. The doctor and he mother's voices seemed to come from far away. Quirkless. She was quirkless.
Her life was over.