Echoes Of Rebellion: Reign Of Puppetmaster

The Seeds of Despair

The door to the pediatrician's office clicked shut behind them, the echo lingering in the small, sterile hallway. Izuku's small hand gripped Inko's tightly, his eyes wide with anticipation.

The doctor's words were still ringing in her ears, the weight of them settling into her chest like an anchor.

"I'm afraid your son... he's quirkless, Mrs. Midoriya."

Izuku hadn't said a word since they left. He walked beside her, too quiet, his footsteps light on the hard floor.

"Don't worry, Izuku," Inko murmured, her voice thin and strained, barely audible. "Mom will always be here for you." She glanced down at him, offering a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

Izuku looked up at her, those bright, hopeful eyes not yet understanding the gravity of what had just been told. "Does that mean I'm not going to be a hero?" he asked softly, his voice so small, a question full of innocent hope, still unaware of the world's expectations of him.

Inko's heart sank. She squeezed his hand a little tighter. "No, Izuku. You're going to be the greatest hero, quirk or no quirk. You're special just the way you are."

But deep down, a cold knot formed in her stomach. She had never wanted this for him. She had dreamed of seeing him soar, to watch him rise and become something the world admired. And now...

She didn't know how to tell him the truth-that without a quirk, his dreams might never come true. That the world didn't value people like him. She didn't know how to comfort him, because she didn't feel comforted herself.

As they stepped out into the bright afternoon sun, the weight of the conversation was still hanging over her. The bustling streets of the city, full of people chatting and walking in pairs, felt distant and far away. The faces of those who passed by were indifferent to her pain, to the sorrow she couldn't hide behind the smile she wore for Izuku.

She walked in silence, carrying the bags of groceries she had picked up earlier that day. Her mind kept drifting back to Izuku's small face, his hopeful expression, and the words of the doctor. It wasn't supposed to be like this. He wasn't supposed to be quirkless.

Her steps slowed as she turned a corner, eyes drawn to a brightly colored poster plastered on a nearby wall.

"A Way for Quirkless Children to Have Quirks!"

The words caught her attention like a hook in her chest. She blinked, taking a step closer, her heart racing slightly faster. The poster showed an image of happy children with vibrant, glowing quirk manifestations, their faces beaming with pride. The promise on the page seemed almost too good to be true.

"Don't give up on your child's future. Call us today for a consultation. A better tomorrow awaits."

Her hand trembled as she reached for the poster, running her fingers over the glossy paper. Her mind was awash with doubt, guilt, and a fleeting, desperate hope.

Could this be the answer? Was this some kind of miracle? Could they really...?

Her breath hitched as she glanced down at Izuku, who was staring up at the sky, lost in thought, unaware of the turmoil inside her. The bright light of the afternoon seemed to dim around her.

She felt a pang in her chest as she looked back at the poster. This was all her fault. If she had done something differently, maybe Izuku wouldn't be in this position. Maybe he wouldn't be quirkless. Maybe he'd have a chance at a future where he could be the hero he always dreamed of being.