Quirkless.
Incompetent.
Underdeveloped.
Inferior.
Unworthy.
These words have haunted me for as long as I can remember. And over time, I began to believe them. Incompetent — just as they said.
In a world ruled by quirks, being born without one is a sentence to insignificance. But it wasn't always like this.
When the first "zero" patient was documented in the city of Qing Qing, China, no one knew what to think. It was unprecedented — a phenomenon that defied logic. Panic spread. Fear gripped entire cities. And soon, quirks were seen not as miracles… but as curses.
In the beginning, those born with quirks were persecuted — branded heretics and bringers of calamity. What followed was chaos. Destruction. The collapse of all known order. That time came to be known as the Dark Age of Quirks. For decades, fear ruled. Trust crumbled. Not even yourself could be trusted, because no one knew when — or if — a quirk might awaken inside you.
In a world where a mere spark of power could turn friend into foe, getting a quirk wasn't a blessing.
It was a death sentence.
Humanity fears what it cannot understand. And when it fears, it attacks. People turned savage, hunting down the gifted. Those with quirks had no choice but to fight back. Over time, as their numbers grew, the tide turned. What was once seen as a curse… became something else. Something to be admired. Desired. Controlled.
And with that, the world changed forever.
Present Day
"Happy Birthday, Izuku!"
The voice rang out with warmth. A slender green-haired woman in a pink apron stood in the kitchen, beaming. Her love filled the room like sunlight. To me, she was the kindest, most wonderful person in the world.
The man who was supposed to raise me never kept his promise.
But let's not get ahead of ourselves.
Izuku Midoriya was just a boy. Four years old, full of wonder and dreams — dreams of becoming a pro hero, just like all the others. At that age, most kids began to show signs of their quirks, inherited from parents or bloodlines. But Izuku had shown nothing yet. Still, his mother watched him with a mixture of worry and affection as he replayed old news clips of All Might — Japan's symbol of peace.
He adored All Might. Imitated his lines. Copied his techniques. Even practiced that iconic booming laugh. It made his mother smile. What could be more precious than seeing your child shine with the hope of a hero?
"Oh, my little hero! Come here and give Mommy a hug!"
She set her cooking aside and scooped him up in her arms. He wrapped his arms around her neck, laughing.
"But Mom, I'm not little anymore! I'm a big kid now!"
He pouted, crossing his arms dramatically. She laughed, ruffling his already-messy green hair.
"Izuku, even when you're taller than me, you'll still be my sweet little boy."
Those words filled him with warmth. He hugged her tightly — so tightly they both forgot about the food on the stove.
"MOM! THE FOOD'S BURNING!"
She spun around in panic and dashed back to the kitchen.
"Izuku, open the window! Looks like dinner's ruined…"
His face dropped.
"I'm sorry, Mom! I didn't mean to! Now we don't have dinner because of me!"
Tears welled in his eyes. His mother knelt beside him, stroking his hair softly.
"Izuku, look at me."He looked up at her gentle, steady gaze.
"It's okay. Heroes make mistakes too." He blinked, confused.
"Even All Might makes mistakes?" he asked, voice trembling. He was dressed in a homemade version of All Might's old bronze-age costume — complete with a yellow cape stitched from an old blanket.
She smiled.
"Yes, sweetheart. Even All Might had rough days in the beginning. He's brave and strong… but he's human too. Just like you."Sniffing, Izuku wiped his tears and stood tall.
"Don't worry, Mom! I'll protect you no matter what! You're the best mom in the whole world!" He puffed out his chest, trying to sound just like All Might. She giggled and kissed his forehead.
"So," she said, "what are we going to eat now, my hero?"
His stomach growled, and she laughed again, picking up the phone.
"Pizza. Not just one — two!" Izuku's eyes sparkled. As she placed the order, he hugged her leg and beamed with joy. While they waited, they played together, filling the house with laughter.
But inside, Inko was worried. Tomorrow was Izuku's quirk evaluation — and his father wouldn't be there.
Hisashi Midoriya was a hardworking man — perhaps too hardworking. He feared his son wouldn't even remember him. When Izuku was born, Hizashi cried tears of joy. But in his eyes, something shifted that day. A heavy silence. A quiet pressure.
He stayed for the first year. He was there when Izuku opened his eyes for the first time. But on his son's second birthday, everything changed.
"Inko," he said one night, voice low, "I have to go. Our finances are slipping, and if I don't act now, Izuku's future will be at risk."
Later, after putting Izuku to sleep, Inko followed him into the hallway. Her voice trembled.
"But Hisashi… Izuku needs you. I need you. Please don't leave."
He pulled her into an embrace. He didn't want to go. But he had convinced himself there was no other choice.
"I'll send money. I'll do everything I can. I don't know when I'll be back… but I'm doing this for you both. Forgive me." A tear slid down his cheek. She held him as if trying to keep him from vanishing.
"Promise me you'll come back. Promise you won't leave Izuku alone."
"I swear on my life."
The next morning, they had a special breakfast — one that felt like a celebration, though no one said why. Inko took pictures: father and son laughing, posing, making silly faces. She called them "two peas in a pod."
Afterward, Hisashi packed his things. Outside, the sky hung heavy and gray. At the door, he hugged Izuku tightly and ruffled his hair.
"Come back soon," Inko said, forcing a smile.
"Yeah! And we'll play together again!" Izuku added.
Hisashi smiled. He kissed Inko softly. In her eyes, he saw all the beauty he could never find in the world — not in magazines, not on screens, but in her heart.
Then he stepped outside.
And the moment the door closed behind him, his appearance shifted. His hair turned white as snow. His face changed, bone structure shifting in subtle but terrifying ways.
He still looked like Hisashi.
But he wasn't.
The man now walking down the street was someone else entirely.
The man known as All For One… had taken his place.