He Will Eventually Blow Up His Mother
“So, how’s school going for you these days?” The woman in the white coat asked, a routine that had grown boring for both of them. As he had every time, Izuku replied with an average response, casually lying as he had almost every day for the past seven years. “Everything’s going well.”
She nodded, hardly paying him any attention as she focused on inserting a needle into his arm, muttering an unnecessary warning about the pain. He’d been doing this procedure for over seven years, it wasn’t like he was suddenly going to become afraid of the numerous medical instruments they used on him monthly.
He sighed as his blood filled the glass vial, no longer fascinated by the unique color of the liquid. His veins were filled with viridian, tainted with a toxic hue that did nothing to reflect its poisonous quality. The shade always differed, but his blood was always green, and forever fatal to anyone who wasn’t him.
The nurse cautiously applied a bandage to his arm, wary of any extra blood that could harm her. She exited the room after flashing him a plastic smile, and he resigned himself to wait until he was fetched for more tests.
He looked around, despite having memorized his surroundings through his numerous visits to the government facility. The room looked like a typical doctor’s office that had been emptied of any color and personal memorabilia, with silent, empty walls, spotless countertops and hospital white coating almost every visible surface.
He sat in his spot on the table in the center of the room, a cold and uncomfortable piece of furniture that always made him feel like meat in front of a butcher.
Izuku remembered the first time he saw this room, five years old and brimming with a childish innocence that had yet to be crushed by reality.
His quirk had activated that afternoon, igniting his eyes and blood in a glowing green that quickly contaminated those closest to him. Soon after, a swarm of government agents showed up in HAZMAT suits and ushered him and his mother into separate vehicles, screaming and crying though he was.
He remembered numbly listening to a man in a suit explain to him his new power and how he’d been terrified, surrounded by strangers who treated him like a lab experiment.
‘Radioactive’ they had said. ‘Nuclear’. A weapon, a threat, more powerful than the strongest heroes on the planet. A child made of death. No one would comfort him when he cried, his tears corrosive and presence unwanted.
He spent almost two weeks in the facility, unable to see his mother and constantly poked and prodded by doctors and scientists greedy for his power. Eventually his mother got him out, having fought tooth and nail with every lawyer and military agent they sent to her; if it weren’t for her efforts, he wasn’t sure if he would’ve ever seen the light of day again.
He left wearing permanent quirk suppressing cuffs and signing a contract that made him return every month. From then on, his life changed. While the school labeled him quirkless and became a hostile environment, he spent every day afterwards in sessions with a quirk counselor, working on control without actually using his quirk - it was too dangerous to remove the cuffs in an unsecured location.
A few years later, he was allowed to return home cuff-free, as the scientists approved of his ability to suppress any radiation leakage for a full 24 hour period. Of course, he still wore the cuffs to bed, but eventually he could even stop doing that.
Life became pretty normal, aside from being constantly monitored by the government. School sucked, and so did the hero commission for trying to induct him into their cult, but he still had his mom, and suppressing his quirk had become practically instinctual at this point.
Everything was going well, and he didn’t want to change it. The door opened silently, a familiar face entering the exam room where Izuku sat quietly.
“Good morning, Midoriya.” His voice was stiff and formal, like the rest of him, his white coat always absent of a single blemish. Izuku had to wonder just how many he had. “Good morning, Dr. Kudou.” He replied, watching as the man made his way over to the sink to wash his hands, not sparing a single glance towards his patient.