Wings of Awakening

Part 1

The sterile smell of antiseptic filled the small examination room, where a young Izuku Midoriya sat on the edge of the patient bed. His legs dangled, not quite reaching the floor, as he fidgeted with his hands, his eyes filled with anticipation. Inko Midoriya sat beside him, her hands nervously gripping her purse, a hopeful smile on her face.

The doctor, a man with a serious demeanor and a clipboard in hand, cleared his throat, breaking the silence that had settled like a heavy weight in the room. He adjusted his glasses and looked down at Izuku before turning his gaze to Inko.

"Mrs. Midoriya," he began, "we've completed all the tests, and we did find a quirk factor in Izuku."

Izuku's eyes lit up, and he leaned forward, almost falling off the bed in his eagerness. "I have a quirk? Really?"

"Yes, you do," the doctor said, but his tone wasn't as enthusiastic as Izuku's. "However, it appears to be dormant. Based on our analysis, the quirk factor is present but underdeveloped. It could take several years to fully awaken, if it does at all."

The room seemed to grow quieter, the words sinking in. Inko's hopeful smile wavered slightly, her eyes darting to Izuku, who was now staring at the doctor with a mix of confusion and determination.

"So... I just have to wait, right?" Izuku asked, his voice trembling slightly but filled with a stubborn kind of hope. "My quirk will come one day, right?"

The doctor nodded slowly. "That's correct. There may be signs of its development over time—aches in certain areas, sensations that seem out of place. But it will require patience. There's no telling exactly when it will appear or what form it will take."

Inko put a gentle hand on Izuku's shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly. "Izuku, did you hear that? You have a quirk! It might take some time, but it's there!"

Izuku nodded, swallowing hard, his mind already racing. He thought of all the times he had dreamed of being a hero, standing alongside All Might the number one hero in Japan and saving people with a smile on his face. He felt a flicker of hope that maybe—just maybe—his dreams weren't as impossible as he'd feared.

As the years passed, the knowledge of his dormant quirk became a double-edged sword for Izuku. Every day, he woke up wondering if today would be the day his quirk would finally show itself. He kept journals filled with theories and observations, each one meticulously detailing any strange sensation he experienced.

But school was a constant reminder of his limitations. Unlike his classmates, who proudly displayed their abilities, Izuku felt left behind. He remembered the days when he and Kacchan were friends, playing together and dreaming of becoming heroes. But as their quirks developed, their paths diverged. Kacchan's confidence grew, and he began to view Izuku with disdain for not having a quirk to match his own burgeoning powers.

"Why don't you just try to be more like me?" Kacchan would taunt, his tone sharp and dismissive. "You could never be a hero without a real quirk Deku!"

Those words cut deep, leaving Izuku to grapple with a painful truth: he was nothing without a quirk. Determined to prove himself, he experimented with everything he could think of.

He practiced breathing fire like his father, his cheeks puffing and his eyes watering as he failed time and time again. He tried running as fast as he could, sprinting through the neighborhood in a desperate bid to match Kacchan's speed, only to end up gasping for breath before collapsing in a heap. He even attempted to punch as hard as All Might, his fists striking trees and dummies, only to find himself sore and bruised with no signs of super strength to speak of.

Each failure weighed heavily on him, a reminder of the gap between himself and his peers. The spark of excitement he once felt for heroism dimmed as the pressure to succeed grew. In quiet moments, when the house was still, Izuku would close his eyes and imagine it—a quirk that would finally let him stand tall beside Kacchan, a chance to reclaim their friendship.

But all he could do was dream. Each night, he envision having his quirk fighting bad guys and saving people like All Might. Yet, in the morning light, he was met only with the dull ache between his shoulder blades, a phantom sensation that left him frustrated and longing.

Inko never let his hope waver, always there to remind him that just because his quirk was slow to come didn't mean it wasn't strong. She'd smile and say, "The strongest things take time, Izuku. Like heroes. And you're going to be the best one."

But as the years wore on, the gap between him and Kacchan widened, and the laughter of their childhood faded into the distance.