A Shift in Identity

   When Midoriya came to, the first thing he noticed was how soft everything felt.
His skin. His hair. Even the inside of his clothes.
Wait—his clothes?
His eyes shot open.
He was no longer lying on the concrete path in the park. Instead, he was in a small clinic room, lying on a bed with a light blue blanket pulled up to his chest. The walls were sterile white, and a heart monitor beeped steadily beside him.
Okay, calm down, he told himself. Just a Quirk incident. I’ve been hit by Quirks before. I probably blacked out. Everything’s fine. Everything’s normal—
He sat up, and the blanket slipped down.
He stared.
Wide green eyes blinked at the sight of a noticeably unfamiliar chest.
“…Oh no,” he croaked.
He grabbed the front of the hospital gown and peered down further. His eyes widened. His skin paled. “Oh no no no no—”
The door swung open.
“Izuku,” a familiar voice called. “Are you—”
Aizawa froze.
Midoriya stared at him, horrified. “Sensei, I… I think I’ve been Quirked.”
Aizawa blinked. Once. Twice. Then turned to the hallway.
“Mic, get in here.”
“I’m coming, I’m coming—whoa! Whoa.” Present Mic skidded into the room, stopped, and squinted. “Is that… Midoriya?”
“I… I think so,” Aizawa said, still blinking.
Midoriya pulled the blanket over his head. “Please let this be a dream.”
Aizawa stepped forward, trying to keep his voice calm. “Okay. We’re going to figure this out. You’re okay, and that’s the most important thing right now.”
“I don’t feel okay,” Midoriya said, his voice cracking. It was higher-pitched than usual—lighter, a bit breathier. And definitely not the voice he was used to hearing come out of his mouth.
Aizawa sighed. “The little girl you helped—Momi—her Quirk apparently causes bodily alterations during emotional distress. She didn’t mean to do it.”
“How long will it last?” Midoriya asked hopefully.
“We… don’t know,” Aizawa admitted.
Mic leaned over and patted his shoulder awkwardly. “We’ll find a solution, kid. But until then… you might need to stay with us. Keep things quiet.”
Midoriya slowly peeked out from under the blanket.
“…You’re saying I should live with you while I’m stuck like this?”
“I mean,” Mic said with a grin, “it’s not the worst house to crash in.”
Midoriya sighed. “I went to help a child. I was trying to be a hero. Now I have boobs and a higher voice and my own teacher is making dad jokes.”
“Welcome to parenthood,” Aizawa muttered.

That night, Midoriya was curled up on the futon in the spare room of Aizawa and Mic’s apartment.
Mic had made yakisoba, and Aizawa had provided an endless supply of hot tea and quiet reassurance. They’d given him some oversized clothes to wear—a black hoodie, sweatpants, and fuzzy socks.
Still, it didn’t feel real.
He stood in the bathroom for a long time after dinner, staring at the mirror. His face was softer. Rounder. His hair looked longer, more unruly. He looked like... someone else. Someone familiar but distant. Like looking through a distorted lens.
“I don’t even know who I am anymore,” he whispered to his reflection.
A knock came at the door.
Aizawa’s voice. “Everything okay?”
“…Not really.”
The door creaked open slightly. “Can I come in?”
Midoriya hesitated. Then nodded.
Aizawa stepped in and stood beside him, arms crossed. They both stared into the mirror.
“You’re still you, you know.”
“Am I?”
Aizawa glanced down. “Quirks can change our bodies. But they don’t define who we are. You’re still the same kid who ran into danger for a crying child. That’s who you are.”
Midoriya felt his throat tighten.
“…I’m scared,” he admitted.
“I know,” Aizawa said softly. Then, after a pause, he added, “But you’re not alone.”

Meanwhile, across town, a certain winged Pro Hero perched on a rooftop, sipping juice from a juice box.
“Midoriya, huh?” Hawks muttered to himself, reading the report on his tablet. “Guess I’ll have to drop by.”

And not far from there, in a dark underground lair lit only by flickering screens…
Shigaraki stared at a glowing image of Midoriya on the monitor—now looking very different.
He tilted his head and muttered, “Interesting.”

To be continued…