Chapter 3
Morning
Izuku woke with the sun, like he had every day for ten years.
His eyes opened instantly, his body immediately alert ready to hunt, ready to run, ready to survive. Then he saw the ceiling above him, the walls around him, felt the softness of an actual mattress beneath him, and remembered.
He was home.
He'd tried to sleep in his old bed last night, but it had felt too soft, too enclosed. After an hour of tossing and turning, he'd moved to the floor with just a blanket. It felt more natural, more like the cave. His tail had wrapped around him for warmth, and he'd finally managed to sleep.
Now, in the early morning light, he sat up and looked around his preserved childhood room. All Might smiled down at him from every wall, frozen in his glory days. The action figures. The posters. The dreams of a four-year-old boy.
It felt like someone else's room. Someone else's dream.
Izuku stood quietly his movements instinctively silent after years of practice and padded out to the living room. His mother's bedroom door was still closed. She'd probably stayed up late, too emotional to sleep, too grateful to have him home.
He sat on the couch, perfectly still, his tail curled around his waist. The apartment was so quiet compared to the jungle. No bird calls. No insects chirping. No rustle of predators in the undergrowth. Just the hum of the refrigerator and the distant sound of city traffic.
It should have felt peaceful.
Instead, it felt strange. Wrong, somehow. Too quiet in the wrong ways. Too loud in others.
Izuku sat there for almost an hour, just existing in the space, trying to remember how to be a person who lived in apartments instead of caves.
"Izuku?"
He turned to see his mother standing in the hallway, wrapped in her bathrobe, her green hair messy from sleep. She looked worried.
"Are you okay? How long have you been sitting there?"
"Since sunrise," Izuku said honestly. "I don't... I don't really know what to do. In the morning, I'd usually check the perimeter. Hunt for breakfast. But here..." He gestured helplessly at the apartment.
Inko's expression softened with understanding. She came over and sat beside him on the couch, close but not touching, giving him space.
"It's going to take time," she said gently. "Ten years of one life doesn't just disappear overnight. You don't have to know how to be 'normal' right away."
"I don't know if I'll ever be normal," Izuku admitted quietly.
"Then we'll figure out your new normal," Inko said. "Together. Starting with breakfast." She stood up, holding out her hand. "Come help me? You can tell me what you'd like."
Izuku took her hand and followed her to the kitchen. "Something with meat?" he suggested. "Raw if possible?"
"I'll do sashimi-style," Inko said, pulling out salmon from the refrigerator. "Fresh fish, sliced thin. And maybe some rice on the side? You need more than just protein."
They worked together in the kitchen Inko preparing the fish while Izuku watched, fascinated by the knives, the cutting board, the ritual of cooking that he'd completely forgotten. She let him try cutting a piece, and his enhanced reflexes made his movements precise and controlled.
"You're a natural," Inko said with a smile. "Those hands might look different, but they're still talented."
They ate breakfast together at the small kitchen table. Izuku devoured the raw salmon with obvious pleasure, and managed to use chopsticks for the rice though it took a few tries to remember how.
"So," Inko said, sipping her tea. "What's the plan for today? You're meeting your friends later?"
"Yeah, at the warehouse. Around noon." Izuku paused. "We want to talk about... about what comes next. About maybe trying to be heroes."
"That's a good goal," Inko said. "But Izuku, honey... you're going to need some things first. Like clothes that actually fit. And shoes. You can't go around in your father's old clothes forever."
Izuku looked down at the oversized shirt and jeans. "I guess you're right."
"So this morning, we go shopping," Inko said with determination. "Nothing fancy. Just basics. Clothes that fit you, shoes that don't fall off. You need to look presentable if you're going to start living in society again."
The idea of going out in public in daylight, with people everywhere—made Izuku's tail twitch nervously. But he nodded. "Okay. If you think it's necessary."
"I do," Inko said firmly. "And I'll be with you the whole time. If it gets overwhelming, we leave. Deal?"
"Deal."
The mall was a nightmare.
Not because anyone was cruel or scared Izuku had wrapped his tail tightly around his waist under his shirt, worn a baseball cap to shadow his face, and kept his claws retracted. From a distance, he looked like a tall, slightly odd teenage boy.
But the sounds. The smells. The press of humanity.
Izuku's enhanced senses picked up everything every conversation, every perfume, every footstep, every heartbeat. It was overwhelming, a cacophony of stimulation that made his predator instincts scream at him to flee or fight.
Inko noticed his discomfort immediately. "We'll be quick," she whispered, taking his hand. "In and out."
They hit a department store, moving efficiently through the sections. Inko picked out basics plain t-shirts in blacks and greens, jeans that actually fit his long legs, shorts for summer, a simple hoodie for when he wanted to hide. She was practical, not fussy, understanding that her son needed functional clothing, not fashion.
The shoes were harder. Izuku's feet had grown calloused and tough, with claws on his toes that made most shoes uncomfortable. They finally found athletic shoes with wide toe boxes that worked well enough.
"These are good," Izuku said, flexing his toes in them. "I can still feel the ground."
"That's important?" Inko asked.
"For balance. For running. Yeah, it's important."
They paid and left quickly, Izuku practically vibrating with the need to get away from all the people. Once they were back outside, he took a deep breath of city air not as clean as the jungle, but at least it was open space.
"You did great," Inko said, squeezing his hand. "I know that was hard."
"Everything's so loud," Izuku admitted. "And everyone's so close together. How do people live like this?"
"You get used to it," Inko said. "Or you did, before. You might again."
They returned home, and Izuku immediately changed into his new clothes a dark green t-shirt and black jeans that actually fit his frame. He looked at himself in the mirror and saw someone who looked almost normal. Almost human.
Almost.
"Much better," Inko said approvingly. "Now you look like a proper teenager."
Izuku touched his new shirt, the fabric soft against his scarred skin. "Thanks, Mom. For everything."
"That's what mothers do," Inko said, kissing his forehead. "Now go meet your friends. And Izuku? Come home for dinner, okay? I want to make sure you're eating properly."
"I will," Izuku promised. "I'll be back before dark."
Izuku arrived at the warehouse first, his natural caution making him scout the perimeter before entering. Everything looked clear no signs of authorities, no surveillance he could detect. Just an abandoned building in a forgotten part of the city.
He climbed through a broken window and dropped inside, his enhanced vision adjusting instantly to the dimmer light.
"Izuku!"
Kaito swung down from the rafters, landing beside him with a grin. He was wearing new clothes too a simple tank top and cargo pants that showed off his furred arms. "Dude! You clean up pretty nice!"
"You too," Izuku said, clasping Kaito's hand in greeting. "Your family doing okay?"
"Yeah, man. My mom won't stop crying every time she looks at me, but like, happy crying. It's kind of exhausting but also really nice." Kaito paused. "She wants to take me to doctors. To 'see what can be done.' I told her nothing needs to be done, but..."
"My mom mentioned doctors too," Izuku admitted. "I think they just want to help."
A rush of air announced Yuki's arrival. She glided in through the broken skylight, her wings spread wide before folding gracefully against her back. She wore a modified tank top that accommodated her wings and simple pants. Her silver hair was braided back from her face.
"Everyone's early," she observed, landing lightly. "Nervous?"
"More like eager," a voice said from the shadows.
Daiki emerged from a dark corner he'd apparently been there the whole time, perfectly still. His scaled body caught the light as he moved, and he wore only pants and a vest-like top that didn't restrict his armored chest. "We've been waiting ten years for this. Why waste time?"
"Not wasting time," Hana's quiet voice said from above. "Just being cautious."
They all looked up to see her descending on a silk line, spiders crawling over her shoulders and through her dark hair. She wore a outfit she'd clearly made herself woven silk and cloth that was both practical and surprisingly elegant. She touched down softly, her compound eyes scanning each of them.
"Everyone made it," she said with a small smile. "Everyone's really here."
For a moment, they just looked at each other five kids who'd survived hell together, now standing in an abandoned warehouse in their home city, wearing real clothes, having come from real homes with real families.
"We did it," Kaito said, his voice full of wonder. "We actually made it out and made it home."
"So now what?" Yuki asked, getting to the heart of it. "We talked about being heroes last night. But how? Where do we even start?"
"There are hero schools," Izuku said. "I remember that much from before. Places that train people to use their Quirks professionally. UA is the biggest one the most prestigious."
"UA," Kaito repeated, testing the name. "Think they'd take us? Five kids with animal mutations and zero formal education?"
"We're not weak," Daiki said firmly. "We might not have gone to school, but we've got skills most heroes never learn. Combat. Survival. Hunting. Tracking."
"But we don't have Quirks," Hana pointed out. "Not technically. We have... whatever these are." She gestured to herself, to all of them. "Mutations. Enhancements. But are they even registered with the government?"
That brought them all up short.
Daiki's expression darkened. "Shit. We'd need Quirk registrations. Birth certificates. School records. All the paperwork that proves we're legal citizens."
"My mom mentioned that," Yuki said quietly. "She said there are going to be legal complications. We've been dead for ten years officially. Coming back is going to raise questions."
"And when they find out how we got these abilities..." Kaito trailed off, the implications hanging heavy.
"They'll want to study us," Hana finished. "Or worse. Send us back."
"No one is sending us back," Izuku said fiercely, his tail lashing. "We escaped. We're free. We're not going back into any cage."
"Then we need to be smart about this," Daiki said, his tactical mind working. "We can't just show up at a hero school looking like this with no explanation. We need a plan."
"It wouldn't be too bad," Daiki continued after a moment, his reptilian eyes thoughtful. "But you guys know that we would have to not only get registered for Quirks, but also go to middle school first, right?"
The silence that followed was heavy.
"We're fourteen," Kaito said slowly. "Like... with normal kids our age? Learning math and history and stuff?"
"You guys are fourteen," Daiki corrected, his voice carrying that characteristic hiss. "I'm seventeen. Which makes it even more complicated for me."
Everyone looked at him.
"What do you mean?" Yuki asked.
"I mean I should be finishing high school, not starting middle school," Daiki said, his scaled arms crossing over his chest. "Most seventeen-year-olds are preparing for university entrance exams, not trying to remember how to do basic math. And hero schools? Their entrance exams happen when you're fifteen, sixteen at the latest. I've already aged out of the normal track."
"So what does that mean for you?" Izuku asked, concern in his voice.
Daiki was quiet for a moment, his reptilian eyes unreadable. "It means I'll have to find another way. Maybe there are programs for late bloomers. Or I focus on becoming an independent hero no school necessary, just get licensed through alternative testing."
"That's not fair," Hana said softly. "You should get the same chance we do."
"Life isn't fair," Daiki said, but his voice wasn't bitter just accepting. "We all lost ten years. For you guys, you can still catch up to your age group. For me? I'm three years behind where I should be. But that doesn't mean I'm giving up. Just means my path is different."
"We stick together though, right?" Kaito said firmly. "Even if we're taking different routes?"
"Obviously," Daiki said, and there was warmth beneath the gruff exterior. "You think I'm abandoning you idiots now? After ten years keeping each other alive?"
"So you four focus on middle school and UA," he continued, gesturing to the others. "Technically, you should be in your last year of middle school. Then high school after that. UA doesn't just take anyone they want students with both Quirk abilities AND academic records."
"We stick together though, right?" Kaito said firmly. "Even if we're taking different routes?"
"Obviously," Daiki said, and there was warmth beneath the gruff exterior. "You think I'm abandoning you idiots now? After ten years keeping each other alive?"
"So you four focus on middle school and UA," he continued, gesturing to the others. "Technically, you should be in your last year of middle school. Then high school after that. UA doesn't just take anyone they want students with both Quirk abilities AND academic records."
"But we can't read," Hana said quietly. "Not really. I mean, I remember some, but... ten years in the jungle? We forgot most of it."
Izuku's stomach sank. She was right. He could hunt, track, fight, and survive. But reading? Writing? Math? Science? Those were skills from another lifetime, from a little boy who'd never gotten the chance to go to school.
"So we learn," Yuki said, though her voice was uncertain. "We catch up somehow?"
"In time for high school entrance exams?" Kaito shook his head. "That's like... less than a year away. We'd have to learn ten years of school in less than a year while also getting Quirk registrations and figuring out how to live in society again."
"It's possible," Daiki said firmly. "Hard, but possible. We survived the jungle. We can survive middle school."
"Middle school doesn't have tigers," Kaito pointed out.
"No, but it has mean girls and pop quizzes," Yuki said with a small smile. "I'm not sure which is worse."
Despite the tension, they all laughed a moment of levity in the face of overwhelming obstacles.
"Okay," Izuku said, pulling them back to focus. "Let's break this down. What do we actually need to do?"
Daiki held up a clawed hand and started counting. "One: Get our legal status fixed. Prove we're alive, get birth certificates reissued, all that bureaucratic crap. Two: Get Quirk registrations for our... abilities. Three: Enroll in middle school and catch up on our education. Four: Train to get into a hero school probably UA if we're serious about this."
"That's a lot," Hana said.
"It's doable," Daiki insisted. "We just have to take it one step at a time."
"Speaking of which," Yuki said, folding her wings against her back. "When are we actually doing the Quirk registration? Don't we need to go to a hospital for that? Get evaluated by doctors?"
The mood in the warehouse shifted, becoming more tense.
"My mom mentioned it yesterday," Izuku said quietly. "Said she wanted to take me to get checked out. Make sure I'm healthy. But I think she also wants the doctors to... I don't know. See if they can help? Maybe reverse some of the changes?"
"Same," Kaito said, his furred hands flexing nervously. "My mom keeps looking at my arms like she's hoping the fur will just fall off one day."
"They can't reverse this," Daiki said bluntly, gesturing to his scaled body. "This isn't a Quirk that can be turned off. This is who we are now. The sooner our families accept that, the better."
"But we still need the registration," Hana pointed out. "It's the law. And if we want to be heroes, we need official documentation of our abilities."
"So when do we go?" Yuki asked. "Together or separately?"
"Separately is probably smarter," Daiki said. "Five kids with animal mutations showing up at the same hospital at the same time? That's going to raise red flags. Questions. Maybe even alert whoever ran that facility that we're back."
The thought made Izuku's tail lash anxiously. "You think they're looking for us?"
"Of course they are," Daiki said. "We're their escaped experiments. They spent ten years turning us into weapons. You think they're just going to let us walk away?"
"All the more reason to get registered quickly," Yuki said. "Once we're in the system as legal citizens with documented Quirks, it's harder for them to just... take us again."
"Good point," Kaito said. "So we each go with our families this week? Get evaluated, get registered?"
"Yeah," Izuku agreed. "The sooner the better. My mom already scheduled an appointment for tomorrow actually. She wanted to do it today, but I told her I needed to meet with you guys first."
"My dad's taking me this weekend," Yuki said. "He's worried about my wings. Wants to make sure they're 'developing properly.'" She made air quotes with her taloned hands.
"Mine's Friday," Hana added quietly. "My sister insisted. She's been really protective since I got back."
"Thursday for me," Kaito said. "Mom made the appointment the second I got home. She's terrified something's wrong with me that she can't see."
All eyes turned to Daiki.
"Monday," he said. "My parents wanted to give me the weekend to adjust first. But yeah, they're taking me to a specialist. Someone who deals with 'mutation-type Quirks.'" His tone made it clear what he thought of that classification.
"So we all get it done this week," Izuku summarized. "Get our abilities officially documented. Then what?"
"Then we talk to our parents about school," Yuki said. "About enrolling us in middle school for the rest of the year."
"That's going to be a fun conversation," Kaito muttered. "'Hey Mom, I know I've been gone for ten years and can barely read, but can you sign me up for eighth grade?'"
"They'll do it," Hana said with quiet confidence. "Our parents waited ten years for us. They're not going to say no to something we actually want to do."
"She's right," Daiki said. "The hard part isn't convincing them to sign us up. The hard part is going to be actually surviving school. Other kids our age have been learning this whole time. They know how to act in society, how to talk to people, how to sit still in a classroom for hours."
"We don't," Izuku admitted. "I almost lost it in the mall yesterday. Too many people, too many sounds. How are we supposed to sit in a classroom with thirty other kids and just... be normal?"
"We fake it," Daiki said simply. "We watch how other kids act and we copy them. We keep our heads down, don't draw attention, and focus on learning what we need to learn."
"And if someone asks about where we've been?" Yuki asked. "What we've been doing for ten years?"
"We tell them we were in a government program," Izuku said. "It's technically true. We don't have to give details."
"What if they push?" Kaito asked.
"Then we push back," Daiki said, his voice hard. "We're not victims anymore. We don't owe anyone explanations. If someone gets too nosy, we shut it down."
"Together," Hana added. "If we're all in the same school, we watch each other's backs."
"Wait," Kaito said, realization dawning. "Are we even going to be in the same school? What if our parents enroll us in different places?"
That thought made Izuku's stomach drop. After ten years of relying on each other, the idea of being separated even just for school felt wrong.
"We need to make sure we end up at the same middle school," Yuki said firmly. "That's non-negotiable. We need to be together."
"Agreed," Daiki said. "When you guys talk to your parents about enrollment, push for the same school. What's the one in our district? The one closest to all our homes?"
"Aldera Junior High," Izuku said, the name coming back to him from childhood memories. "That's the public school most kids in this area go to."
"Aldera Junior High," Kaito repeated. "Okay. We all ask our parents to enroll us there. Same school, hopefully same grade, definitely same lunch period so we can meet up."
"What about you?" Hana asked Daiki. "If you're not doing middle school..."
"I'll figure something out," Daiki said. "Maybe I do a GED program, get my high school equivalency. Then I can start working on the hero licensing tests. But I'll stay in touch. We can still meet here regularly, keep training together."
"Every week," Izuku said. "Same as we did in the jungle. We meet here every week, share what we've learned, keep training."
"And if anyone has problems," Yuki added, "if school gets too hard or if those facility bastards come looking for us"
"We handle it together," Daiki finished. "Like always."
They stood in their circle, five predators preparing to infiltrate human society. It should have felt impossible. Maybe it was impossible.
But they'd already done the impossible by surviving.
They could do it again.
"So the plan," Izuku said, counting on his clawed fingers. "This week: hospital visits, Quirk registrations. Then: talk to our parents about enrolling in Aldera. Start catching up on our education at home before school starts. And keep meeting here every week to train and make sure everyone's okay."
"Sounds good," Kaito said.
"Manageable," Yuki agreed.
"One step at a time," Hana said.
"We've got this," Daiki added with certainty.
Izuku looked at each of them—his pack, his family, his fellow survivors. They'd been through hell and come out the other side. Going to middle school and becoming heroes?
After the jungle, it almost seemed easy.
Almost.
"Alright," Izuku said. "Let's do this. Let's show the world what Project Primal really created."
"Not weapons," Yuki said softly.
"Not monsters," Hana added.
"Heroes," Kaito finished with a grin.
"The best damn heroes they've ever seen," Daiki said.
They clasped hands in the center one more time—a pack, a team, a family.
Then they separated, each heading back to their new old lives, their new families, their new futures.
Izuku made it back to the apartment just as the sun was beginning to set, keeping his promise to be home before dark. He climbed the stairs quietly, his enhanced hearing picking up the sound of his mother moving around inside.
When he opened the door, the smell of cooking food hit him immediately something with meat. His predator instincts perked up with interest.
"Izuku!" Inko turned from the stove, her face lighting up with relief. "You're back. How did it go with your friends?"
"Good," Izuku said, closing the door behind him and making sure to lock it a habit from the jungle, always securing the den. "Everyone's doing okay. Their families are all helping them adjust."
"That's wonderful," Inko said, returning to the stove where she was pan-searing steaks. "I'm making dinner. I figured you'd prefer something with meat, so I got us some good cuts. They're still a bit rare in the middle—I hope that's okay?"
"That's perfect, Mom," Izuku said, and meant it. The smell was making his mouth water.
They settled at the small kitchen table once the food was ready. Inko had prepared rice and vegetables for herself, but Izuku's plate had two thick steaks, cooked rare enough that pink juice pooled on the plate. He tried to use knife and fork properly, but eventually gave up and used his hands and claws, tearing into the meat with efficient bites.
Inko watched him eat without judgment, just quiet acceptance.
"Mom," Izuku said between bites, "I need to talk to you about something."
"Of course, sweetie. What is it?"
Izuku set down the piece of steak he was holding and looked at his mother seriously. "I want to go to school. To middle school. Me and my friends want to try to become heroes. But to do that, we need education. We need to catch up on everything we missed."
Inko's expression was unreadable for a moment. "Heroes," she said softly. "You still want to be a hero, even after everything that happened to you?"
"Especially because of what happened to me," Izuku said firmly. "They tried to turn us into weapons. Into monsters. But we're not. We're still us. And I still want to save people. I still want to help. I just... I need to learn how first."
"Izuku..." Inko reached across the table and took his clawed hand in hers. "You know school is going to be hard, right? You'll be with kids who've been learning this whole time. Kids who don't understand what you've been through. It might be overwhelming."
"I know," Izuku said. "But Mom, I spent ten years in a jungle learning to survive. I can handle a classroom."
A small smile crossed Inko's face. "That's true. If you can handle living with a tiger, you can probably handle middle school."
"There's a specific school we want to go to," Izuku continued. "Me, Kaito, Yuki, and Hana we want to all go to the same place so we can watch out for each other. It's called Aldera Junior High. I remember it from before it's the public school in our district."
"Aldera," Inko repeated, nodding. "I know it. It's about twenty minutes from here. A good school, from what I've heard." She paused. "But Izuku, you've been gone for ten years. They're going to have questions. They're going to need records, test scores, documentation of where you've been"
"The lawyer you contacted," Izuku interrupted gently. "Can they help with that? Get us enrolled somehow?"
Inko was quiet for a moment, thinking. "Probably. There are provisions for children who've had... unusual circumstances. Homeschooling documentation, alternative education programs. We can work something out." She squeezed his hand. "But you have to understand you might have to start in a lower grade. You might not be placed with kids your actual age."
"That's okay," Izuku said, though the thought of being held back stung a little. "I just need to learn. Whatever grade they put me in, I'll work hard and catch up."
"I know you will," Inko said, her eyes getting misty. "You've always been so determined. Even when you were little, when everyone said you'd never get a Quirk, you never gave up on your dream." She wiped her eyes. "I'm proud of you, Izuku. So proud."
"So you'll help me? Help us get enrolled?"
"Of course I will," Inko said firmly. "If going to Aldera Junior High is what you want, if becoming a hero is what you want, then I will support you one hundred percent. That's what mothers do."
Relief flooded through Izuku. "Thank you, Mom. Really. I know this is probably weird—your son comes home after ten years and immediately wants to go back into society—"
"It's not weird," Inko interrupted. "It's brave. You could hide away, stay home where it's safe. But you're choosing to face the world head-on. That's incredibly brave, Izuku."
She stood up and came around the table, pulling him into a hug. Izuku's tail wrapped around them both automatically, and he buried his face in her shoulder.
"We'll go to the school this week," Inko said softly. "After your hospital appointment tomorrow. We'll talk to the administrators, explain the situation, and get you enrolled. And if anyone gives you trouble, if anyone makes you feel unwelcome, you tell me immediately. Understand?"
"I understand," Izuku said, his voice muffled against her shoulder.
"Good." Inko pulled back and cupped his face, looking into his cat-like eyes with nothing but love. "Now finish your dinner. You need your strength if you're going to take on middle school."
Izuku returned to his meal with renewed appetite, while Inko started making plans out loud what supplies he'd need, what forms to fill out, how to get his school uniform adjusted for his tail. It was overwhelming and terrifying and exciting all at once.
"Oh, and Izuku?" Inko said as she started clearing the dishes. "Tomorrow at the hospital the doctors are going to want to examine you. Really examine you. They might ask uncomfortable questions or want to run tests. If at any point you feel unsafe or uncomfortable, you tell me. We leave. Your wellbeing comes first, always."
"I will," Izuku promised. "But Mom... I'm not scared of doctors. After everything I've been through, a hospital visit seems pretty tame."
Inko paused in her cleaning, turning to look at him with an expression that was both sad and proud. "You've grown up so much. Too much, too fast. But you're still my baby boy."
"Always," Izuku agreed with a small smile.
That night, Izuku lay on the floor of his room with just a blanket still unable to sleep in the too-soft bed and stared at the All Might posters on his ceiling. Tomorrow he'd go to the hospital and get his abilities officially documented. Soon he'd be enrolled in school. Eventually, if everything went right, he'd apply to UA.
He was really doing this. Really trying to become a hero.
His hand went to the tiger's claw at his chest, feeling its familiar weight.
"I'm going to make you proud," he whispered to the tiger, wherever it was. "All of you. Mom, the tiger, my friends. I'm going to prove that what they tried to do to us turning us into weapons failed. We're going to be heroes instead."
And with that promise made, Izuku closed his eyes and let sleep take him, dreaming of a future where five predators wore hero costumes and saved people with smiles.
The next morning, Izuku woke with the sun again, his body refusing to sleep past dawn no matter how much he tried. He lay on the floor for a few minutes, staring at his ceiling, mentally preparing himself for what was coming.
A hospital. Doctors. Tests. People examining him, poking him, asking questions about what had been done to him.
His tail curled anxiously around his leg.
"It's just documentation," he whispered to himself. "Just getting registered. That's all."
But the predator instinct in the back of his mind was restless, wary. Hospitals meant vulnerability. Meant being trapped in small spaces with strangers. Meant showing weakness.
A soft knock on his door. "Izuku? Are you awake?"
"Yeah, Mom. I'm up."
Inko opened the door, already dressed for the day. "The appointment is at nine. We should leave in about an hour. Do you want breakfast first?"
"Yeah," Izuku said, standing up and stretching. His muscles coiled and released with feline grace, and he heard several joints pop. "Something quick though. I'm... kind of nervous."
"That's perfectly normal," Inko said gently. "But I'll be with you the whole time. And remember if you feel uncomfortable at any point, we leave. No questions asked."
They had a simple breakfast Izuku ate leftover steak from last night, cold and straight from the container, while Inko had toast and tea. She didn't comment on his eating habits anymore, had already accepted that her son's dietary needs had changed permanently.
When it was time to go, Izuku pulled on his new hoodie the one with enough room for his tail to tuck uncomfortably against his back and a baseball cap to shadow his face. He looked almost normal from a distance. Almost.
The walk to the hospital was about thirty minutes. Inko offered to call a taxi, but Izuku preferred walking. Being in enclosed spaces with strangers still made him tense, and at least walking gave him the illusion of freedom, of being able to run if he needed to.
The city was fully awake now, people rushing to work or school, cars honking, the chaos of modern life. Izuku's enhanced senses picked up everything—every conversation, every footstep, every heartbeat. It was overwhelming, but he was slowly learning to filter out the noise, to focus on what was important.
"You're doing great," Inko said quietly, noticing his tension. "Just keep breathing. We're almost there."
The hospital was a large, modern building all glass and steel and sterile white. The automatic doors slid open as they approached, and a wave of antiseptic smell hit Izuku so hard he almost gagged.
It smelled like the facility. Like Facility 13. Like the place where they'd injected him and taken away his humanity.
Izuku froze just inside the entrance, his breathing coming faster, his claws extending involuntarily.
"Izuku?" Inko's voice was worried. "Sweetie, what's wrong?"
"The smell," Izuku managed, his voice tight. "It smells like that place. Where they"
Understanding dawned on Inko's face. "Oh, baby. I'm so sorry, I didn't even think" She gently took his arm, guiding him to a bench near the entrance. "Sit down. Breathe. We don't have to do this today if you're not ready."
"No," Izuku said, forcing his claws to retract, forcing himself to calm down. "No, I need to do this. I just—give me a minute."
He focused on his breathing, on the techniques the tiger had inadvertently taught him through years of hunting—how to control his heart rate, how to push through fear. After a few minutes, he felt steadier.
"Okay," he said. "I'm okay. Let's go."
Inko looked uncertain but nodded. "If you're sure."
They approached the reception desk, where a tired-looking woman with purple hair glanced up. "Can I help you?"
"We have an appointment," Inko said. "Izuku Midoriya. Nine o'clock with Dr. Terimeshi."
The receptionist typed something into her computer, then paused, her expression becoming more alert. "Ah. Yes. You're the... special case." She looked at Izuku with poorly concealed curiosity. "Dr. Tanaka is expecting you. Third floor, room 304. He's cleared his entire morning for your evaluation."
"His entire morning?" Izuku asked quietly as they walked toward the elevators.
"They're probably going to be thorough," Inko said. "Quirk evaluations can take a while, especially for... unique cases."
The elevator ride was torture a small metal box that made Izuku feel trapped. His tail thrashed under his hoodie, and he had to consciously stop himself from clawing at the walls. When the doors finally opened on the third floor, he practically bolted out.
"Room 304," Inko read the signs, leading them down a quiet hallway. "Here we are."
The door was plain white with a small placard reading "Dr. Tanaka - Quirk Specialist." Inko knocked, and a moment later, a voice called out, "Come in!"
They entered a large examination room that was surprisingly less sterile than Izuku had expected. There were plants in the corners, posters of different Quirk types on the walls, even a small window with sunlight streaming through. A man in a white coat stood by a desk middle-aged, with kind eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses and salt-and-pepper hair.
"Mrs. Midoriya?" he said, extending his hand. "I'm Dr. Tanaka. And you must be Izuku."
Izuku shook his hand cautiously, very aware of his claws. "Yes, sir."
"Please, sit down," Dr. Tanaka gestured to two comfortable chairs across from his desk. Once they were seated, he sat down and pulled out a file. "Now, I've been briefed on your case at least, the basics. You were taken ten years ago as part of an illegal government program and subjected to... experimental procedures. Is that correct?"
"Yes," Izuku said, his voice quiet.
"And these procedures resulted in significant physical mutations," Dr. Tanaka continued, his tone clinical but not unkind. "Which is why you're here to get officially documented and registered. Before we begin the examination, I want to make something clear: I'm not here to judge you or try to 'fix' you. My job is simply to understand your abilities, document them for legal purposes, and make sure you're healthy. Does that sound acceptable?"
Izuku glanced at his mother, who nodded encouragingly. "Yeah," he said. "That sounds okay."
"Good. Now, why don't you start by telling me what changes you've noticed? What abilities do you have that you didn't before?"
Izuku took a deep breath. "Um. A lot of things. My senses are way stronger than normal—I can see in the dark, hear things from really far away, smell things that other people can't. I'm faster and stronger than I should be. I can climb pretty much anything. I have claws" He held up his hands and let them extend. "and fangs. And a tail."
"May I see the tail?" Dr. Tanaka asked gently.
Reluctantly, Izuku stood and lifted his hoodie, letting his tail unwrap from around his waist. It swished behind him, green fur catching the light.
Dr. Tanaka made notes on his tablet, but his expression remained neutral, professional. "Fascinating. And you have full motor control over it?"
"Yeah. It helps with balance mostly. And I use it to grip things sometimes when I'm climbing."
"Remarkable. Please, sit back down." Dr. Tanaka set aside his tablet. "Now, I'm going to need to run some tests. Physical assessments, reflex tests, sensory evaluations. Some of it might be uncomfortable, but nothing should be painful. If at any point you need to stop, just say so. Understood?"
"Understood," Izuku said.
What followed was the most thorough examination Izuku had ever experienced not that he had much to compare it to. Dr. Tanaka tested his reflexes. He measured his grip strength, his jumping ability, his visual acuity. He had Izuku read letters from across the room, identify sounds played at different frequencies, distinguish between different scents.
For Izuku, these weren't tests of unusual abilities this was just... him. This was how he'd lived for the past ten years. Reading tiny print from across a room wasn't impressive, it was normal. Hearing a conversation three floors down wasn't special, it was Tuesday. These were just the tools he'd used to survive.
"Your strength is approximately four times that of an average adult male," Dr. Tanaka said, recording data. "Your speed... based on the treadmill test, you can maintain a sprint of about 40 miles per hour for extended periods. Your sensory capabilities are off the charts vision comparable to a cat's, hearing that rivals some animal-type Quirks I've documented."
"Is that... normal for Quirks?" Inko asked nervously.
"Every Quirk is different," Dr. Tanaka said diplomatically. "But I'll be honest this is one of the most comprehensive mutation-type Quirks I've seen. The combination of predatory instincts, enhanced physiology, and retained human intelligence is... unique."
"What do you mean by 'predatory instincts'?" Izuku asked.
Dr. Tanaka looked at him thoughtfully. "During the reflex tests, I noticed your responses weren't just fast they were precise. Calculated. Like you were assessing threat levels automatically. When I dropped that clipboard behind you, you didn't just startle you spun around in a defensive crouch with your claws extended in under half a second. That's not learned behavior. That's instinct."
Izuku remembered the moment. He'd reacted before thinking, his body moving on autopilot to face a potential threat.
"The facility that held you," Dr. Tanaka continued carefully, "they spliced you with DNA from multiple large feline species, correct? Jaguar, lion, tiger, cheetah?"
"That's what they told me," Izuku confirmed.
"Then you're not just physically adapted to be like those animals. Your brain has been rewired to think like them, at least partially. You have predator instincts—hunting, territorial behavior, threat assessment, pack dynamics. These aren't Quirk abilities in the traditional sense. These are fundamental changes to your neurology."
The room was quiet for a moment.
"Is that dangerous?" Inko asked, her voice small. "Will he... lose control?"
"I don't believe so," Dr. Tanaka said. "From what I've observed, Izuku has remarkable control over his instincts. He's not ruled by them he's integrated them. That takes incredible mental strength." He looked at Izuku. "How do you feel about these instincts? Do they bother you?"
Izuku thought about it. "Sometimes. Especially in crowds. I feel like I need to escape, to get to high ground, to watch for threats. But I can control it. The tiger taught me how."
"The tiger?" Dr. Tanaka asked.
"The animal they paired me with. It raised me for ten years. Taught me to hunt, to survive, to... to be what I am now."
Dr. Tanaka made more notes, his expression thoughtful. "Mrs. Midoriya, I want to be very clear about something. What was done to your son is unprecedented and, frankly, horrifying. But the result" He looked at Izuku. "is not a monster. This is a young man who has adapted to extraordinary circumstances and maintained his humanity despite everything. The changes are permanent, yes. But they don't define him."
Izuku felt something tight in his chest loosen slightly.
"Now," Dr. Tanaka continued, "for the official registration, I need to classify your Quirk. Typically, we give them names. Have you thought about what you'd like to call your abilities?"
Izuku blinked. He hadn't even considered that. "I... no. I don't know."
"What about your friends?" Dr. Tanaka asked. "The others from the program. What are they calling theirs?"
"We haven't really talked about it," Izuku admitted.
"Well, take some time to think about it," Dr. Tanaka said. "For now, I'll register you as 'Mutation Type: Feline Hybrid' with a temporary designation. Once you decide on an official name, we can update it."
He tapped on his tablet for a few more moments, then looked up. "Alright. I have everything I need for the registration. You should receive your official Quirk documentation in about two weeks. In the meantime" He reached into his desk and pulled out a business card. "If you experience any medical issues, if your instincts become harder to control, or if you just have questions, call me. Day or night."
Izuku took the card carefully. "Thank you, Dr. Tanaka."
"One more thing," the doctor said as they stood to leave. "I understand you're planning to enroll in school? With the goal of eventually attending a hero academy?"
"Yes, sir," Izuku said.
Dr. Tanaka smiled. "Then I'll include in my report that you are physically and mentally capable of rigorous training. Your unique abilities, properly developed, could make you an exceptional hero." He extended his hand again. "Good luck, Izuku Midoriya. I have a feeling you're going to do great things."
As they left the hospital, stepping back into the sunlight, Izuku felt lighter than he had in days. The examination hadn't been nearly as bad as he'd feared. Dr. Tanaka had been kind, professional, hadn't treated him like a freak or a science experiment.
"See?" Inko said, squeezing his hand. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"
"No," Izuku agreed. "It was actually... okay."
"Now we just need to get you enrolled in school," Inko said. "Ready for round two?"
Izuku looked down at his clawed hands, then at the city around him full of normal people living normal lives. And soon, he'd be one of them. Sort of.
"Yeah," he said. "I'm ready."
Together, mother and son headed toward Aldera Junior High to begin the next chapter of Izuku's journey.
One step at a time.
The school was less intimidating than the hospital, at least visually. It was a modest three-story building with a small courtyard, surrounded by a chain-link fence. Students were visible through the windows kids in uniform, sitting at desks, living normal lives.
Izuku's tail twitched nervously under his hoodie.
"It's the middle of the day," Inko observed. "Classes are in session. That's probably better fewer students around to stare."
They entered through the main doors and found themselves in a small reception area. A woman at the front desk looked up, then did a double-take when she saw Izuku's cat-like eyes beneath the shadow of his cap.
"Can I help you?" she asked, her voice carefully neutral.
"We have an appointment with Principal Kobayashi," Inko said firmly. "Regarding enrollment. I called yesterday Midoriya?"
"Ah, yes." The receptionist typed something, then gestured down the hall. "Second door on the right. He's expecting you."
The principal's office was warm and cluttered with books, student artwork on the walls, and a large desk covered in papers. Behind it sat a man in his fifties with graying hair and a kind, weathered face. He stood when they entered.
"Mrs. Midoriya? And this must be Izuku." He extended his hand. "I'm Principal Kobayashi. Please, sit down."
Once they were seated, Principal Kobayashi folded his hands on his desk and looked at them both with patient understanding. "I've been briefed on your situation at least, the basics. Your son was taken ten years ago, held in a government facility, and only recently returned home. Is that correct?"
"Yes," Inko said, her hand finding Izuku's and squeezing it.
"And you're seeking to enroll him here at Aldera for the remainder of the school year, with the understanding that his education has been... interrupted."
"That's right," Inko confirmed. "I know this is unusual"
"Mrs. Midoriya," Principal Kobayashi interrupted gently, "in my thirty years as an educator, I've dealt with many unusual situations. Yours is certainly unique, but not impossible to accommodate." He turned his attention to Izuku. "Son, I understand you've had virtually no formal education for the past ten years. Is that accurate?"
"Yes, sir," Izuku said quietly. "I can read a little, and do some basic math, but... not much. I spent most of that time learning other things."
"Survival skills, from what I understand," the principal said without judgment. "That's valuable education too, just not the kind that translates to a classroom." He pulled out a form. "Normally, when a student has significant gaps in their education, we'd place them in a grade level where they can catch up often lower than their age would suggest."
Izuku's heart sank. He'd expected this, but it still hurt to hear.
"However," Principal Kobayashi continued, "I've also been in contact with your lawyer and reviewed the documentation from Dr. Tanaka. You've been through extraordinary circumstances, and from what I can see, you have exceptional determination and intelligence. So here's what I'm proposing."
He leaned forward, his expression serious but encouraging. "We enroll you in the eighth grade with students your own age. You'll attend regular classes, but we'll also provide you with additional tutoring sessions after school and on weekends to help you catch up on the material you've missed. It will be challenging very challenging. You'll be working harder than most students your age. But I believe, given what you've already survived, you can handle it."
Izuku stared at him, hardly daring to believe it. "You mean... I wouldn't have to be held back? I could be with kids my age?"
"That's exactly what I mean," Principal Kobayashi said with a slight smile. "Though I want to be clear this is contingent on your progress. If after a few weeks it becomes apparent that you need more foundational work, we'll reassess. But I'm willing to give you the chance to prove yourself."
"Thank you," Izuku breathed, relief washing over him. "Thank you so much. I won't let you down. I'll work as hard as I need to."
"I believe you will," the principal said. Then he turned to Inko. "Mrs. Midoriya, I also want to address something that might be a concern. Your son's physical appearance his mutations are quite distinctive."
Inko tensed. "If that's going to be a problem"
"It's not," Principal Kobayashi said firmly. "Aldera Junior High is an all-inclusive Quirk school. We have students with all types of abilities and physical manifestations. Mutation-type Quirks, while less common than emitter or transformation types, are absolutely accepted here. We have anti-discrimination policies in place, and any student caught bullying another for their Quirk or appearance faces serious consequences."
"Really?" Izuku asked, surprised. In his vague memories of before, he remembered other kids sometimes being mean about Quirk differences.
"Really," the principal confirmed. "I won't lie to you there may still be students who stare or make thoughtless comments. Teenagers can be thoughtless. But the school itself, the administration, the teachers we will support you. If anyone gives you trouble, you report it immediately."
"What about his... dietary needs?" Inko asked carefully. "Izuku requires a high-protein diet, and he prefers his meat... less cooked than typical."
"The cafeteria can accommodate special dietary requirements," Principal Kobayashi said without missing a beat. "We have students with all sorts of Quirk-related dietary needs. We'll make arrangements."
He pulled out several forms and began sliding them across the desk. "These are enrollment forms, consent forms for tutoring, medical release forms. I'll need information about his Quirk registration Dr. Tanaka mentioned it's still being processed?"
"We should have the official documentation in two weeks," Inko said.
"That's fine. We can proceed with enrollment now and add the registration number once it comes through." Principal Kobayashi looked at Izuku again. "Do you have any questions? Concerns? Anything you want to know about the school?"
Izuku thought for a moment. "Are there... are there other students enrolling? From similar situations?"
Understanding flickered in the principal's eyes. "You mean your friends. Yes, I've been contacted by three other families this week about enrollment all with similar circumstances. I assume you'd like to be in classes together?"
"If possible," Izuku said. "We... we help each other. We're better together."
"I'll make sure you share at least a few classes," Principal Kobayashi promised. "Though I can't guarantee identical schedules we have to work within our existing class structures. But lunch periods, at minimum, I can arrange."
"That's more than enough," Izuku said gratefully. "Thank you."
They spent the next hour filling out paperwork, discussing schedules and policies, going over the school rules. Principal Kobayashi explained that Izuku would start the following Monday giving him a few days to mentally prepare and get his supplies together.
"One last thing," the principal said as they were preparing to leave. "School uniforms. We require them, but I understand your son has some... unique physical characteristics that might make standard uniforms difficult."
"My tail," Izuku said, touching the base of it through his hoodie.
"Exactly. I'm going to have our uniform supplier contact you about modifications. A small opening in the back for the tail, perhaps some adjustments to accommodate your build. Is that acceptable?"
"Very acceptable," Inko said, relief evident in her voice.
As they left the office, Izuku felt like he was floating. He was going to school. With kids his age. At the same school as his friends. With a principal who actually seemed to care and understand.
"See?" Inko said as they walked out of the building. "Not everyone is going to judge you. Some people will help."
"Yeah," Izuku agreed, looking back at the school building. In just a few days, this would be part of his daily life. A normal, human routine.
It was terrifying.
It was exciting.
It was another step toward becoming a hero.
"Let's go home," Inko said, taking his hand. "We need to start working on your reading and math. If you're going to be in eighth grade, we have a lot of catching up to do."
Izuku groaned but couldn't stop smiling. "Can we at least get lunch first? I'm starving."
"Of course. What do you want?"
"Sushi?" Izuku suggested hopefully.
Inko laughed a sound that was becoming more common, more natural. "Sushi it is. But then we're studying. Deal?"
"Deal."
As they walked through the city together, Izuku touched the tiger's claw at his chest. The jungle seemed very far away now. His old life the caves and hunts and survival felt like something from another world
The Weekend Before
The days between Thursday and Monday passed in a blur of preparation and nervous anticipation.
Izuku spent most of his time with his mother, working through basic educational materials she'd purchased middle school textbooks, workbooks, flashcards. It was frustrating at first. Words that should have been simple felt foreign. Math problems that eighth graders solved in minutes took him much longer.
But Izuku had spent ten years learning to hunt, to track, to survive. If he could master those skills, he could master this too.
"You're doing great," Inko encouraged as they worked through a history chapter together Saturday afternoon. "You've only been at this for a few days and you're already reading full paragraphs."
"It's slow though," Izuku said, frustrated as he stumbled over a word he didn't recognize. "The other kids have been doing this for years. I'm going to look stupid."
"You're not stupid," Inko said firmly. "You're learning. There's a difference. And Izuku? Those other kids? None of them survived what you did. None of them have your strength or determination. You'll catch up. I know you will."
Izuku wanted to believe her. He really did.
On Saturday evening, his phone a simple one Inko had gotten him buzzed with a text. It took him a minute to figure out how to open it, his clawed fingers awkward on the screen.
Kaito: dude hospital sucked but i got registered! quirk name: primal simian. sounds cool right?
Yuki: Registered yesterday. They called mine "Raptor Queen." A bit dramatic but I like it.
Hana: Mine is "Arachne's Gift." The doctor said it fit. How did yours go, Izuku?
Izuku slowly typed out a response, his claws making typos he had to correct multiple times.
Izuku: Got registered. Still deciding on a name. Dr. Tanaka was nice. Also got enrolled at Aldera! Starting Monday. You guys too?
The responses came quickly.
Kaito: YES! Mom signed me up yesterday. Gonna be weird wearing a uniform again
Yuki: Same. Dad was worried but Principal Kobayashi convinced him it would be good for me
Hana: Monday for me too. We're really doing this
Izuku: Together. Like we promised
Daiki: You kids have fun at school. I'm starting my GED program next week. Independent study. Less people staring at the lizard boy
Kaito: you're not a lizard you're a badass dragon
Daiki: Same thing. Good luck Monday. Don't let the normal kids intimidate you. Remember you're predators. They're prey
Yuki: Daiki that's not helping
Daiki: It's true though. But fine. Be nice. Make friends. Don't eat anyone
Izuku: Wasn't planning on it
Hana: See you all Monday. We can meet at lunch?
Izuku: Principal said he'd make sure we have the same lunch period
Kaito: Perfect. Predator lunch table. This is gonna be awesome
Izuku set down his phone, a small smile on his face. At least he wouldn't be alone. His pack would be there with him.
Sunday was spent getting his school supplies notebooks, pencils, a backpack that had to be modified to accommodate his tail. Inko took him to a store that specialized in Quirk-friendly supplies, and the staff there didn't even blink at his appearance. Apparently, they'd seen much stranger.
His modified uniform arrived Sunday afternoon a standard Aldera uniform with careful alterations. The pants had a small opening at the back, reinforced with extra stitching so his tail could move freely. The shirt was slightly larger to accommodate his muscular build. When Izuku tried it on, he looked almost normal. Almost like any other middle school student.
Except for the whiskers. And the cat eyes. And the claws. And the tail.
"You look very handsome," Inko said, her eyes getting misty. "My boy, going to school. I never thought I'd see this day."
"Mom, don't cry," Izuku said, but his own voice was thick. "I'm just going to school."
"You're going to school," Inko repeated, pulling him into a hug. "After everything, you're going to school. You're living a normal life. You're getting your future back."
That night, Izuku tried to sleep but couldn't. He lay on his floor, staring at the ceiling, his mind racing with possibilities. What if the other kids were scared of him? What if he couldn't keep up with the schoolwork? What if his predator instincts got the better of him in a crowded classroom?
What if he failed?
His hand went to the tiger's claw at his chest, and he thought about the massive cat that had raised him. The tiger had never doubted him. Had never treated him like he was weak or incapable. It had pushed him, challenged him, taught him to be strong.
"I can do this," Izuku whispered to the darkness. "I survived the jungle. I can survive middle school."
His phone buzzed. Another text, this time just from Kaito.
Kaito: you awake?
Izuku: Yeah. Can't sleep
Kaito: Same. Nervous?
Izuku: Terrified
Kaito: Me too. But hey we got this right? We're unstoppable together
Izuku: Yeah. We are
Kaito: Get some sleep. Tomorrow we show them what Project Primal really created
Izuku: Not weapons
Kaito: Heroes
Izuku smiled, set down his phone, and closed his eyes. Tomorrow was the first day of the rest of his life.
And he was ready.