Chapter Text
A sharp, searing pain burned through Izuku’s eyes, like someone had stabbed red-hot knives straight into them. He gasped, his tiny body trembling as he instinctively reached up to rub them—only to freeze.
His hands.
They weren’t his hands.
Pitch-black skin covered his arms, swallowing the soft, familiar color he had always known. His fingers twitched, his breath quickened. Was this real? Was he dreaming? He turned his other hand over, only to see the same unsettling darkness stretching up his arm. It wasn’t just his hands—both arms were completely black, the color fading away near his shoulders, blending back into his normal skin.
Terror coiled inside him. He was four years old. He didn't understand. He did the only thing that made sense—he cried.
Loud, panicked wails filled the room, his small body curling up as he sobbed into his knees.
His cries jolted his mother awake.
The sharp, desperate sound pierced through the quiet apartment. Inko shot up in bed, heart pounding as she scrambled to her feet. That wasn’t just a sleepy whimper or a bad dream—her baby was terrified.
She ran.
Nearly tripping over herself, she threw open his door, her breath caught in her throat as she took in the sight before her.
Her Izuku—her precious, innocent baby—looked nothing like himself.
His once messy green hair was now stark white, strands falling over his forehead in an almost ghostly manner. His small arms, which she had kissed and held since the day he was born, were black as night, fading only at his shoulders as if they had been dipped in ink. But it was his eyes that sent ice through her veins.
They weren’t green anymore.
They were blue.
Not just blue— glowing.
Like two tiny lanterns in the dim room, unnatural and impossible.
“Mama?” Izuku’s voice wavered, thick with confusion and fear.
Inko snapped out of her trance and rushed forward , falling to her knees beside his bed. She scooped him up, cradling his trembling body against her chest, rocking him as he sobbed.
“It’s okay, sweetheart, I’m here,” she whispered, pressing kisses against his hair—his white hair. She swallowed back her own panic, pushing it down for his sake.
He clung to her, tiny fingers twisting into her nightshirt as if letting go would make everything worse. His small frame trembled, little hiccups shaking his body.
“M-Mama… what’s wrong with me?”
Her heart shattered.
She pulled back just enough to see his face, cupping his cheeks gently. His glowing blue eyes, full of fear, searched hers for answers she didn’t have.
What had happened to him?
“I don’t know, baby,” she whispered honestly, her voice thick. She swallowed hard, stroking his cheek with her thumb. “But we’ll figure it out, okay? Mama’s here.”
Izuku sniffled, nodding weakly, though the fear never left his expression.
Inko barely had time to process what was happening before a strange warmth spread over her.
It started as a soft glow—faint, almost unnoticeable at first. But then, the eerie blue light surrounding her intensified, casting shadows along the walls. She gasped, her arms tightening around Izuku as an unsettling sensation washed over her, like something was being pulled from her.
And then, she saw it.
Perched on the side of Izuku’s forehead, just above his temple, was a small, glowing horn.
It hadn’t been there before.
Her breath hitched. “Izuku—”
A dizzy spell hit her like a wave. The world around her blurred. Her limbs tingled, the warmth in her body melting away into something strange, something… wrong. Her nightshirt loosened around her shoulders. Her hair, which had been pulled into a messy bun, felt slightly fuller, strands growing longer.
And then it clicked.
The mirror.
She turned her head sharply, her heart slamming against her ribs.
Across the room, in the reflection of Izuku’s nightlight, she saw herself. Or rather, a younger version of herself.
Her once 29-year-old face was softer, smoother, the faint lines of age erased as if they had never been there. Her body—her entire body—felt different. Smaller. Younger.
Her chest rose and fell, panic setting in. This wasn’t possible. This couldn’t be possible.
She looked down at Izuku. His breathing was shaky, his tiny fingers clenching her shirt, oblivious to what had just happened.
That horn. That glow.
Did he do this?
She swallowed hard, forcing down the fear threatening to crawl up her throat. Right now, Izuku mattered more than her panic.
“Izuku… honey,” she whispered, gently pulling back just enough to see his face. His glowing blue eyes looked up at her, wide and frightened.
“D-Don’t be mad…” he whimpered, guilt pooling in his voice. “I—I don’t know what happened…”
Her heart clenched.
She wasn’t mad. How could she be? He was just a child—her child. And he was scared.
Taking a shaky breath, Inko cupped his cheeks, her thumbs brushing away his lingering tears. She forced a smile, even though she wasn’t sure what to think.
“It’s okay, sweetheart,” she whispered, because it had to be.
Even if nothing about this was okay.