The Unfeasible Series

the case: child quirks

"The kid never developed his quirk fully, and the doctors prescribed him suppressants because it was affecting his everyday life. He had only ever used it twice, once when he was scared and walking the streets at night, and the other when he was playing at the park as a child." Tsukauchi told Aizawa, spinning in his office chair. 

Aizawa nodded. "I assume the park was with the author." He pointed out, taking a sip of his coffee. He had spent the whole night with the detective, both working through ungodly hours. Aizawa had just gotten back from night patrol, and Tsukauchi had just finished a call from the kid with the memory publication quirk. 

"He never saw the kid he accidentally activated his quirk on. From what we could tell, he was with quite a few kids around that time. Plus he was only six years old himself. Halfway through high school currently--I'd say his memory of the event might not be a hundred percent accurate, especially due to his young age." Tsukauchi recounted, mind whirring. He tapped his fingers on the chair's arm as he kicked off the floor again. 

Aizawa huffed, letting his head fall back so he was looking at the ceiling. "His quirk went off when he was taking a walk one day?" He pressed, wanting more information. 

The detective paused. "He had gotten separated from his mother at a mall as a four year old and decided to wander around a bit--" 

"Very logical, indeed." Aizawa murmured. 

"--and apparently a man had approached him, asking if he needed help. Scared the quirk out of the child and next thing you know--boom! An accidental poem being published." 

Aizawa looked at the detective who had finished the last circle and had instead begun writing on a piece of paper. "A poem? Singular?" He asked, confused. Tsukauchi nodded. 

"It was about the man's greatest fear: losing his wife and child, I believe." He flipped through a couple papers on his desk, skimming them. "Yeah, that's right." He agreed with his earlier statement. 

Aizawa hummed in acknowledgement. "Why did it affect the man different from our anonymous author? One poem being published is vastly different from someone's whole life." 

Tsuakuchi gave a small, humorless chuckle. "I asked that too." He commented, taking a deep breath. He leaned his elbows on the table and placed his head in his palms. A headache was beginning to form. "He said that his quirk lasts longer on people with more traumatic experiences or inner turmoil. As seen in the books, the affected kid clearly never got out of his state of inner turmoil. Thus, his quirk never died out." 

"Until a year ago." Aizawa added, rolling his eyes as he swirled the coffee cup in his hand. 

"Until a year ago." Tsukauchi amended. "Even then, the only reason the quirk's effects dissipated was probably because the teen found out. Either that or something else happened to make the kid's memories cut off right there." The thought aloud. 

Aizawa looked down at his liquid gold. Every step we seem to take, we get forced back three more. 

"He doesn't by any chance remember what the kid looked like?" He asked in a final attempt to see if they had any more leads. 

Tsukauchi looked at the hero before turning to his computer and typing away. "He doesn't." Aizawa let out an annoyed grunt. "You better get going or else you won't be able to sleep tonight. Tomorrow we meet with Nighteye."

And with that, the hero made his leave.