Prologue.
A stiff silence hung overhead, interrupted but not entirely disturbed by the ruffling of papers, tired coughs, and the occasional creak of a chair, followed by footsteps dragging to the mounds of paper weighing down the boardroom table, and retreating once the nearest stack lost an insignificant amount of weight.
The most recent set of footsteps to make the journey are unique, the stiletto heels betrayed by their energetic and rhythmic taps on the hardwood floor. The steps barely pause, lifting a handful of pages from the nearest pile before they march back, their return announced by the thud of paper on laminated glass.
A few people in the room cast lethargic glances in her direction as she claims her seat, only to quickly lower their heads again. They return to sifting through their collection of miscellaneous news stories, most of which had been dismissed in favor of more substantial headlines when they first appeared. Now, these neglected stories are found to be tragically lacking in quality.
A dry chuckle breaks the silence, halting the rustling of pages. The awkward quiet that follows is tinged with hope as several heads turn toward the source. The most important of those heads sits at the end of the table, a wrinkled face barely visible above the stacks of paper. His forehead is crowned with two horns—one filed down to less than half an inch, while the other rises a full foot above his rapidly greying blonde hair.
"What have you got, Inoue?" Mr. Miyagi asks.
Inoue, caught off guard by the tired, expectant gazes of his colleagues, looks up, realizing only then that he had chuckled aloud.
"Oh, sorry, sir. It's nothing important," he says, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment.
Mr. Miyagi ignores the apology, flicking his hand impatiently at the story in Inoue's hand. "If it made you laugh in a moment like this, it must have some ability to stir emotions. What is it? Show it to me."
Inoue hesitates for a moment, silently wondering how to explain, before passing the story to his neighbor. As the paper begins making its way up the chain to Mr. Miyagi, he starts to talk.
"It's a story from a small town out in the countryside. It's really not that interesting. I just chuckled imagining how badly it would go if we actually ran it."
Takako, the woman in stilettos from earlier, perks up, her eyes filled with morbid curiosity. "Oh? What was the title?" she asks.
"If you must know, Takako," Inoue sighs, "The title is 'Local Girl Saved from Drowning by—"
"—Mutated Freak," Mr. Miyagi interrupts, spitting in disgust. He crumples the paper and tosses it behind him, where it lands in a growing pile of discarded stories. "Damn it."
A rumble of mutters erupt from the rest of the boardroom, discussing the shocking use of the archaic term.
One voice shot up above the rest. "It would certainly cause quite a stir, why don't we use it?"
There was barely a second of silence before Mr. Miyagi shot it down. "No. Absolutely not, Hanawa, why would you even suggest it!?"
"Why not?" Hanawa prodded, a challenging edge to his tone. Mr. Miyagi seemed too stunned to respond immediately.
"Because we follow a code of ethics!" Inoue shot back, his voice firm.
Hanawa rolled his eyes. "Oh, please. We're already stretching it thin by trying to help the government with a cover-up."
"We're not covering it up," another voice interjected, "we're creating a distraction! There's a difference."
"Is there?"
"But—"
"Quiet." Mr. Miyagi ordered, and the room fell into an uneasy silence.
His gaze fixed on the ceiling as he considered the implications. "Hanawa's right," he admitted, drawing a few shocked gasps. "We are already pushing the boundaries of our code of ethics. But if we don't act, we risk widespread distrust in the Hero system. All Might might be the people's champion, but it's hard to see him as a pillar of peace and justice when the system he supports seems rotten to the core."
"They are rotten to the core," Hanawa countered. "They groomed a teenage girl into becoming a government-funded serial killer, and now she's killed her handler."
Mr. Miyagi rubbed his temples, fighting the urge to lash out. "Don't be a smartass. You're complicit in this. You don't get the moral high ground."
"And yet you do when it comes to deciding what stories to run?"
"No, I don't, and thank you for pointing that out," Mr. Miyagi replied, a strained smile on his face. "But given the current political climate, using that story would be a terrible move."
The room fell into a contemplative silence, and Takako seized the moment.
"If ethics aren't our top concern right now, I have something that might serve as a delicious distraction." She purred, sliding a file across the table to Mr. Miyagi before he could ask for it.
With a weary sigh, Mr. Miyagi opened the file, skimming the first few dry sentences, already preparing to discard it. But as he read further, his expression shifted, his jaw dropping slightly.
"And as a cheeky little bonus," Takako added with a laugh, "this one has a bit of star power to it."
Elsewhere
Quirk Analysis File
Name: Haruku Toga (formerly Haruku Monoma)
Quirk Classification: Conditional Stockpile
Quirk Name: Imitation
Description:
Imitation is an automatic ability triggered by physical contact with another individual. Upon activation, the quirk stockpiles the individual's "subconscious movement information," allowing Haruku to subconsciously imitate their body language, accent, and motion habits. The quirk is mentally taxing, causing headaches if used for more than an hour.
Additional Notes:
Haruku Toga possesses the mutation of catlike eyes, a trait prevalent in her family. This is the fifth instance where this physical mutation has been associated with the ability to "Copy" traits from others. Investigation required for possible classification as a newly discovered Quirk Marker Mutation.
"The extra notes in your file mention that you have Quirk-Induced Neurodivergence." The doctor carefully places the pastel-turquoise file cover to the side, then leans forward, his elbows sinking into the groaning plywood desk. "As a child, you often felt an unusually strong urge to mimic those you admired, sometimes even using your quirk on others without their consent. Is that correct?"
The kind-faced man had encountered his fair share of unique visitors, always managing to maintain his professional composure. But now, as he asked his question, a bead of sweat trickled down his brow, and the faint, damp sound of his hands rubbing together betrayed his unease. He was clearly operating outside his comfort zone.
Seated with a certain grace in one of the two client chairs—though it was difficult to exude elegance in a plastic seat—was Haruku Toga, one of the nation's top actresses and idols. "Yes, although I quickly overcame that after some strict guidance from my parents," she said, nodding pensively. Her presence felt almost too grand for the sunlit pediatrician's office, even if her business-casual attire and messy bun struck a stark contrast to her glamorous on-screen image. To the doctor, it seemed as if she had deliberately tried to distance herself from her public persona.
Haruku pointed reservedly out the dirtied sliding glass doors that led to the playground. Outside, a blonde-haired girl no older than five darts between the painted legs of the wooden jungle gym, skillfully avoiding the touch of a slightly younger boy. Her sharp teeth flash in a wide grin as she uses one of the legs as a barrier. When the boy starts getting frustrated, she playfully exaggerates a mistake and allowes herself to be caught, letting out a shriek of laughter before dashing after one of the older kids, shrill laughter echoing throughout the playground.
The doctor barely catches the fleeting smile on Haruku's face before it fades into a look of sadness, and her pointing hand returns to her lap. "Himiko is proving a bit more stubborn," she says softly.
The pediatrician, choosing to ignore the potential implications of "strict guidance," made himself busy and reached for another file on his desk, finding one that he had some difficulty acquiring. He rifled through it, searching for relevant information.
Quirk Analysis File
Name: Shuhei Toga
Quirk Classification: Consumption Enhancement
Quirk Name: Blood Frenzy
Description:
Blood Frenzy is a physical enhancement quirk that activates through the oral consumption of blood. It increases Shuhei's strength and speed, accompanied by an adrenaline rush that dulls physical pain. The effect's intensity and duration vary based on the quantity and quality of the blood consumed. "Quality" is determined by how closely the blood resembles human blood, with mammalian blood being necessary. Primate blood yields the strongest effects, while marsupial blood yields the weakest.
Side Effects:
Under Blood Frenzy's influence, Shuhei experiences a compulsion to obtain more blood, with the intensity of this urge correlating with the quirk's current strength. Post-activation, Shuhei undergoes a depressive episode and withdrawal symptoms similar to those caused by Trigger.
Quirk Marker Mutations:
Vampire Tooth: Associated with blood-related quirks, providing immunity or resistance to blood-borne diseases. Red Eye: Possibly indicates a stronger quirk or one with significant psychological impact on the user.
Incident Reports:
Age 4: During initial quirk manifestation, Shuhei assaulted and seriously injured another student at daycare. The teacher restrained him until medics arrived, allowing the quirk to subside.
Age 17: Expelled from Ketsubutsu Academy and served 1 year in juvenile prison for assaulting another student. His sentence was reduced due to his voluntary surrender, guilty plea, and remorse expressed to the victim and their family.
The doctor frowned as he flipped through the file, only to find several pages missing. He quickly recalled the notification from the system about restricted information—something that could be due to a variety of reasons. Sometimes, it was something as mundane as a government-funded quirk researcher requesting exclusive access to certain sections of a file. Other times, it could indicate an active police or hero investigation.
He looked up at the actress, his curiosity piqued. "Your husband's file seems to be missing a few pages. Do you know if I might be able to schedule a session with him for a more in-depth discussion regarding the information that's been left out?"
Haruku grimaced, a tight expression that gave the doctor pause. "Unfortunately, he is unavailable."
"Unavailable?" he echoed, feigning nonchalance. "No worries, I'm sure he'll have time for questions regarding the well-being of his children. If you could provide his contact information, I can—"
"Doctor. Please." Her voice was firm, brooking no argument. "It's a complicated matter."
A brief, tense silence hung in the air as the doctor processed her words. He understood then—by "complicated," she likely meant "sensitive," and it was clear he should tread carefully.
"Alright then," he conceded, closing the file and swapping it out for the daughter's.
The file was thin, as expected for a toddler who had only recently manifested her quirk. Still, it contained notes of speculation from previous doctors based on visible mutations observed through non-intrusive inspections.
"You mentioned over the phone that you were concerned about your daughter, correct?" The doctor's eyes remained on the page as he spoke.
Haruku straightened in her chair, clearly relieved to be addressing the issue she cared about. "Yes, doctor."
"Can you explain why?"
She hesitated, her discomfort palpable. "She—well—I'm not sure how to phrase this without it sounding terrible, but she bit into a bird."
The doctor's eyes widened momentarily before he quickly composed himself, shifting his gaze between the page and Haruku. "Was there blood? Did anything unusual happen?"
"Yes, there was blood," Haruku admitted, her face paling. The doctor noted her visible discomfort with the topic. "And she mentioned that she thought the bird looked very pretty because of the blood."
The doctor swiftly opened a drawer and retrieved a notepad. "Did she have any particular reaction to the blood?"
"Other than finding it pretty? Not really." Haruku's voice was calm, though her unease was evident.
The doctor hesitated before asking, "Your husband…" He let the words hang in the air, watching for any sign of discomfort. Haruku's face remained impassive, giving nothing away. Deciding it was safe to proceed, he continued, "Did he share this fascination?"
"I used to think he didn't, but looking back now, I'm certain he did." Her tone was stiff, almost mechanical, practiced.
"I won't press for details," the doctor reassured her, though her posture didn't soften. "But would you say he also found it 'pretty'?"
"No, he claimed it was disgusting, something I thought we both shared. He would recoil at the sight of it. I often wondered how he managed to work as a nurse."
The doctor resumed his note-taking, the pencil scratching against the paper, pausing occasionally as he glanced at the father's file. The only other sounds in the room were the distant laughter of children playing outside and the muted hum of the city.
Finally, the doctor cleared his throat, signaling the end of his notes. He reclined in his chair, the plastic creaking under the shift in weight.
The doctor offered a reassuring smile. "Good news: your daughter doesn't have the red-eye mutation, which is a dominant gene. If she had it, we'd know by now. This means that even if her quirk affects her psyche, it likely won't be as severe as her father." He paused, flipping through the pages. "However, we should still keep an eye on other mental effects. According to her file, she's inherited some traits from your side—specifically, the cat-like eyes and that oddly dominant blonde hair. Did your husband's family have any particular hair color?"
"My husband had black hair. I haven't met much of his family, but his cousins and sister also had nearly pitch-black hair, sometimes with streaks of grey."
"And your son?"
"He has his father's hair." Her voice faltered slightly, as if the fact troubled her more than she let on.
"Alright. So, it seems that if we're concerned about how her quirk might affect her mentally, it's more likely to align with your family's traits. The interest in blood is probably just a phase, something manageable with a bit of effort."
Haruku sighed, visibly relieved. "Thank you, doctor. And her quirk? Do you have any idea what it might be?"
The doctor rubbed his leg, as if the motion would help him articulate his thoughts. "Quirk genetics can be notoriously unpredictable. While I can give a rough estimate based on her mutations, it's important to remember that some of these traits might be vestigial or unrelated to her actual quirk. There's also a small chance that her quirk could be entirely different from both yours and your husband's."
Haruku gave a curt nod, signaling him to proceed.
"Given your daughter's cat-like eyes—often informally dubbed 'copy-cat' eyes—her quirk might involve mimicking or copying traits from others. While she also seems to have the 'Vampire Teeth' mutation, which usually points to blood-related quirks, in her case, they appear slightly more feline. This could suggest a broader 'cat theme' in her quirk. But even though that interpretation seems less troubling, it's important to prepare for the possibility that her quirk could involve blood."
Haruku's voice trembles slightly as she asks, "Is there any way to know for sure?"
The doctor sighs, leaning back as the chair creaks under his weight. "Anyone who claims they can predict a child's quirk with absolute certainty before it manifests is either lying or fooling themselves."
Haruku tries to steady herself, but her eyes betray her worry. "If the worst happens, is there a way to control her impulses?" Her voice carries a sense of urgency.
The doctor's hand rubs his temple as he leans forward again, his exhaustion evident in the deepening lines on his face. He hesitates before opening a drawer, plywood groaning against plywood. Inside lay a stack of old fliers, their surfaces coated with dust. He carefully lifted one, brushing off the dust before closing the drawer with a finality that echoed in the quiet room.
"There is," he said, holding the flier just out of her reach. Haruku's eyes locked onto it, a desperate hope flickering in her gaze. "But," he added, raising the flier slightly as she reached for it, "I want you to know that I don't believe this is the best option for your daughter—or for any child, for that matter. The only reason I'm giving this to you is because I'm required to by law."
"I understand," Haruku replied, though her eyes remained fixed on the flier. The doctor recognized the desperation in her gaze, his heart heavy as he finally extended it to her. She snatched it from his hand, her fingers trembling as she began to read.
Resisting the urge to argue against the flier's contents before she even had a chance to read it, the doctor turned his gaze to the playground outside. Watching children at play usually lifted his spirits, but his rising calm faltered as he caught sight of the young Toga girl's wide, shameless grin. At that moment, the weight of what he had just handed to her mother—a key that could lock away that innocent smile behind years of trauma—crushed him, leaving his heart heavy.
Unable to bear the sight, he shifted his attention to the younger Toga child. The boy, though slightly larger than average, was unmistakably clumsy as was typical of a toddler his age, his dark hair falling over his eyes as he stumbled around the playground. His file contained little information: no apparent mutations, save for perhaps his father's hair, but it'd take an insane man to suggest black hair was a mutation amongst the Japanese population. Yet, even the absence of extra pinky toe joints suggested he wasn't quirkless—something that previous doctors had briefly considered. Still, having such Vitruvian attributes when both parents possessed significant inheritable mutations was unusual, even quirkless children often inherited physical mutations, even if they remained vestigial in nature.
The doctor felt compelled to address this concern. Clearing his throat, he tried to catch Haruku's attention. "Mrs. Toga." His voice was gentle, yet firm enough to pull her gaze away from the flier. "I'm sorry to interrupt your reading, but I want to talk about young Kaitsu."
At the mention of her son's name, Haruku's demeanor shifted instantly. Her expression transformed from one of worry to one of pride, her billion-yen smile lighting up the room. "Yes, my little boy," she said, her voice practically glowing. "He's such a handsome little man, isn't he?"
The doctor noted her emphasis on 'handsome,' and though it gave him pause, he reminded himself that parents often held unusual biases. Still, he couldn't help but feel there was a little more than classic parent bias at play here.
"Yes, he certainly is, Mrs. Toga," he replied noncommittally. "However, I do have a concern regarding his quirk."
Her smile faded slightly, replaced by a look of guarded interest. "How so? Do you think he's quirkless?" Her tone made it clear that she wouldn't tolerate such a suggestion.
"No, not at all," he reassured her quickly. "But there is a high likelihood, based on my experience, that he could develop a late-onset hyper-heteromorphic quirk."
Her silence spoke volumes, her eyes widening as she waited for him to explain.
"A hyper-heteromorphic quirk," he began, choosing his words carefully, "is a quirk that drastically alters the physical structure of the user, often making them appear less typically human than other heteromorphic quirks. Think cat-head instead of cat-ears."
Her face paled, the color draining as she whispered, "You're saying he's going to turn into a... beast?"
The word 'beast' hit him like a sledgehammer, but he kept his tone measured. "Please, Mrs. Toga, refrain from using that language," he chided gently. "But yes, if my assessment is correct, it could explain why he currently shows no mutations."
Haruku seemed to bite back another remark, her knuckles whitening as she gripped the flier. "And you're sure about this, Doctor?"
"As sure as I can be, given the circumstances."
"Well then, I think—" Her voice was abruptly drowned out by the sharp cry of a child in pain, followed by the panicked shouts of others. Haruku's heart skipped a beat as she instantly recognized the scream. Without a second thought, she shot up from her seat and darted out of the office.
"Kaitsu! Baby, are you alright?!" Her voice cracked with desperation as she sprinted toward the playground.
At the far end of the playground, a crowd of children had gathered, their faces a mix of fear and confusion. Haruku pushed through them, her breath catching in her throat as she reached the scene. On the ground, Himiko was grappling with a larger boy who seemed to have a fox-based quirk, her small hands clawing viciously at him while her teeth snapped dangerously close to his skin.
Just beside them, Kaitsu was curled up, clutching his head and screaming in agony. Haruku's panic intensified as she knelt beside her son, her hands trembling as she tried to comfort him. "Shh, baby, it's okay. Mommy's here," she whispered, though her own voice was shaky with fear.
The doctor arrived moments later, his usually calm demeanor shattered by the urgency of the situation. He quickly moved to separate the struggling children, but Himiko was relentless, her small frame powered by an unusual strength as she fought to break free. Haruku's focus remained on Kaitsu, her mind racing to figure out what was wrong.
It was only when Kaitsu lifted his tear-streaked face from his hands to cling to her that she noticed something alarming. Sprouting from the top of his head were a pair of fox-like ears, identical to those of the boy the doctor was desperately trying to hold back, if only for the different hair color.
Her breath caught in her throat, but before she could process what was happening, the situation took another bizarre turn. Himiko, in one final burst of defiance, sank her teeth into the doctor's wrist, drawing blood.
In an instant, the doctor wasn't holding the wrist of a 4-year-old girl—he was holding a perfect duplicate of himself.
1 Month Later.
Kohei Monoma sat at his dining room table, draped in his nightgown, the soft morning light filtering through the blinds of his newly purchased and yet to be fully furnished apartment. As he sifted through the usual pile of junk mail, newspapers, and flyers, one envelope stood out—large and brown, with the words "Next of Kin Adoption Inquiry" printed on it. His heart sank as he recognized what it was.
Taking a sip of his coffee, he set the envelope aside for a moment, trying to collect his thoughts. The quiet clink of a cup on the table pulled him from his thoughts as Misato, his wife of just over a month, joined him in the room.
"Everything alright, darling?" she asked, her presence a calming balm to his rising anxiety.
Kohei managed a small smile, reaching out to take her hand. "I'm alright, but someone else might not be," he replied, his tone heavy with the weight of the situation. "Remember that whole mess with my sister?"
Misato nodded, her brow furrowing in concern. "The one during our honeymoon? You were really upset for a while after that. Is this from her? I thought you hadn't spoken to her in years."
"I haven't," he confirmed, his fingers working at the seal of the envelope. "It's a legal notice. They want me to adopt her children."
Misato's eyes widened. "She abandoned them?"
Kohei shook his head, pulling out a stack of papers. "No, she's been arrested. Haruo mentioned she was facing trial for illegal quirk use, workplace harassment, and other charges related to her... well, her husband."
"That awful man," Misato murmured, shuddering at the memory. "So the charges stuck?"
"Looks like it." Kohei leafed through the papers, his expression grim. "Haruo must have turned down the adoption. Being the oldest, it would have gone to him first. But since our parents are gone, it's come to me."
"Is there anyone from her husband's side?" Misato asked, concern lacing her voice.
Kohei sighed. "Doubt it. He always seemed like a loner. Even if he has family, they probably don't know about the kids."
Misato leaned in closer, resting her head on his shoulder. "So what happens if we don't take them?"
"They'll go to an orphanage or a foster home," he said quietly, the thought gnawing at him.
"Which isn't ideal." Misato kissed his forehead before standing up. "I'll make us some breakfast while you go through the papers. We can talk more once we know what's involved."
Kohei watched her retreat to the kitchen, her simple act of care giving him a moment of peace. But as he returned his attention to the documents before him, any sense of calm quickly faded.
The photos of his niece and nephew stared back at him, bringing a rush of memories. The girl, Himiko, had the same "Copy Cat" eyes that his siblings had, a trait he had never inherited. Her eyes were a striking yellow, different from the usual bluish-grey he remembered. She looked almost exactly how her mother did at that age, minus the toothy smile. Meanwhile, the boy, Kaitsu, had none of the distinctive mutations, something that pulled at old wounds from his childhood as the black sheep of the family.
But it was the description of their quirks that truly gave him pause. He realized, with a sinking feeling, that these kids might not stand a chance in the foster system.
4 years later
"Haruku! Let go of her!" Misato's voice trembled with fear as she watched the woman tighten her grip on Himiko. "Kohei! Help!"
"She's my daughter, and I'll do what I want. Stop whining like a bitch—you're hurting my ears," Haruku spat, her eyes narrowing into slits as she yanked Himiko closer. The young girl struggled, tears streaking down her face as she tried in vain to escape.
"Please, let's talk about this," Misato pleaded, her voice strained. "Just let go of Himiko, and we can—"
"Mom?" Kaitsu's small voice interrupted, and Misato's heart sank as she saw the seven-year-old boy standing in the doorway, his innocent eyes filled with confusion.
Haruku's gaze snapped to him, her expression softening near instantly to a facade of a deeply caring mother. "Hey sweetie, you're coming home with me, alright? We're getting back together." But her attempt at sweetness was undercut by the force she used to keep Himiko from slipping away.
Kaitsu looked uncertain. "Mom, who's this?" His question was directed at Misato, and the ignorance in his voice made Haruku's face twist with rage.
"I'M your mother, not this whore who seduced my infirm of a brother!" Haruku snapped, her words dripping with venom. Kaitsu recoiled, fear spreading across his features. "You know what? Screw this. If neither of you wants to come willingly—"
She lunged for him, her hand outstretched, but Kaitsu instinctively swiped at her, trying to defend himself. The moment their hands touched, Kaitsu's body convulsed violently. Haruku jerked back, startled, feeling her quirk react as well.
Misato rushed to Kaitsu, her hands trembling as she checked his pulse and felt his forehead. "Kohei! Come quick!" she cried, panic lacing her voice.
"What's going on down there?" Kohei's voice echoed down the stairs, followed by the sound of hurried footsteps.
"The boy's useless," Haruku muttered in disgust, her eyes settling on Himiko with a predatory glint. "You'll have to do." With surprising strength, she hoisted the terrified girl over her shoulder and bolted for the door.
"Misato? What happened? Is Kaitsu alright?" Kohei's voice was frantic as he reached the bottom of the stairs, his eyes wide with worry.
"He's had another episode, but he'll be okay," Misato said quickly. "But your sister—she took Himiko. You have to stop her!"
"Shit." Kohei bolted out the door, his heart pounding in his chest. He caught sight of Haruku just as she disappeared down the stairwell. Sprinting after her, he closed the gap, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he reached the parking lot.
BANG
The sound of the gunshot rang in his ears, and he stumbled, pain radiating from his side. He collapsed to the ground, his vision blurring as he heard the screech of tires and the slam of a car door.
"You had a fucking GUN?!" Haruku's voice was furious, cutting through the haze of pain.
"Don't blame me—I didn't think it'd hurt him that bad," came the response, laced with irritation.
"He's QUIRKLESS, you idiot!"
Kohei could barely make out the sound of the car speeding away as darkness crept in at the edges of his vision. He cursed himself, knowing he was too weak to stop them, his body failing him when he needed it most.
Hi, so I have a lot of plans with this fic. I want to make a more hard-magic quirk system, and I'd appreciate questions to probe what I mean with certain things or any theories you might have about the system itself. I want to develop the rigidity this system and refine my methods of communicating it to be as streamlined as possible.
The altered quirk system will factor into the plot, and will also mean some character's quirks will change, although only slightly. The same goes for the in-universe world building.
I have a whole set of plans, but any comments pointing out potential I haven't tapped into yet or any productive critiques are welcome. In general, if you feel something is unclear, please ask questions. I want to develop my ability to write clearly and concisely.
I hope you enjoyed the read!