Chapter 1: Prounouced Quirkless

A five year old boy with black hair and lively brown eyes sat on the exam table in the doctor's office, kicking his feat. His feet hitting against the drawers beneath made loud rattling noises.

"Stop that!" His mother chided him, sitting on one of the chairs next to the monitor, and he smiled.

"Okay mom!" He said. His smile though soon left his face as his eyes moved erratically, reading the words on his phone's screen. He had to beg his mom for weeks before she finally relented and gave him a smartphone. Though not without putting tons of child safety features.

A good mom? Yes. Good for him? Unfortunately, no.

His mother, Kayla took a peek at what he was reading. It was an article about the Number One Hero, All Might. She knew her child has had an interest in Heroes for awhile. Though she didn't know how deep it went.

She could only hope he didn't want to be a Hero. As she had a sinking suspicion he didn't have a Quirk.

*****

As the doctor came into the room, he had a frown marring his face. Sitting down, he gave the sad news.

"I'm sorry Mrs. Hope, but your child is Quirkless." She covered her mouth as she gasped, and turned towards her child. His attention was still focused on his screen, though she could tell he had heard, his ears straining.

*****

Kayla had been relatively silent ever since the results had been announced. She didn't say anything on the drive back. She ushered Michael inside their house. With her hand on his back, she guided him to the living room and sat down. She patted next to her, and Michael hopped up onto to the couch.

"Michael, what do you want to do in the future? Mommy will support you no matter what, you know that, don't you?" She was holding back her tears as she explained that to him.

"I want to be a Hero, Mom!" He said, a bright smile adorning his chubby face. That was the straw which broke the camel's back, and his mother let out a choked sob as she pulled him into a bear hug.

"I'm sorry Honey, Mommy's so sorry! This is all Mommy's fault," She cried, rubbing his hair. Only now did Michael realize he had made his mother cry. He hugged her back, comforting her, or at least trying to. His mother blamed herself because she didn't have a quirk

Once she stopped crying, Michael pulled away from her grip. "Michael?" she questioned.

He looked up at her, and rubbed her dry tears away. "Why are you crying mommy?" he asked her softly.

"Michael, honey, you wouldn't understand I-"

"A Quirk isn't all there is to a person, mom," he said seriously. 'There it is,' Kayla thought.

Her son had always been more mature, smarter, than he let on. She knew it, her husband knew it, and his older brother knew it. Even at this moment, she was being comforted instead of her child, whose dreams were now all but impossible to accomplish.

It took her son's words a moment to hit her, but once it did, she started crying again. She herself had given up many things in life, believing she hadn't had the capacity to achieve things like how people with Quirks had. She was crying because she was sad for herself, and disappointed that she had given up on her son before even trying.

"Plus," Michael started, and she wondered what other things he might have to say. "It's not your fault I'm Quirkless, who told my pinkie toes to have an extra joint!" He exclaimed, glaring at it as though it were his mortal enemy.

"Pfft, haha!" His mother both laughed and cried.

Kayla bet in the whole world that she was the only one who had a son that could make their mother both cry and laugh simultaneously.

And that, in her mind, was pretty quirky.

*****

Two years had passed since Michael had first been announced Quirkless. Her son, despite being Quirkless, strutted towards his goal with unhindered determination. Any and all insults towards his dream or his Quirklessness only seemed to motivate him further.

Honoring her promise, she supported him as much as she could. Enrolling him into multiple schools of martial arts. Though only three stuck. Muay Thai, Boxing, Jiu-Jutsu.

He wanted to find a Krav Maga school, but it wasn't in the state of Michigan. Besides that, Michael has been making himself familiar with the technology of the current world. It was the year 2154 after all. It had advanced far from what he remembered.

Aside from that, he also attended school, and even though he felt it was redundant, he needed to have good grades if he hoped of attending a Hero School. He wanted to get into UA Hero School.

Huge aspirations for a little big boy in the small wastage pond called Detroit. He would need to work harder than ever. Looking at the calendar on his phone, he pinned the date February twenty-sixth, eight years in the future, the day of UA Entrance exams.

*****

Joining after school activies such as stem, Michael strived to learn as much as he could. His brain soaking up info as though it was a dry sponge. He read many gun magazines, begged his Dad to get him into Airsoft, and relentlessly honed himself.

Honestly, just imagining it made his heart throb in excitement for the day to come. The day he'd prove everyone wrong. His mind was made up, come hell or high water, nothing would stop him from getting into that fucking school, even if it killed him, which he'd be damned if it did.

*****

Kayla didn't know what to make of her son's single-minded tenacity. She was worried for him. He should be playing with kids his age, or videogames, or TV. Something "normal."

Instead, all he did was study engineering, study for school, and other technological things she couldn't begin to understand. Their garage had turned into his personal workshop. There wasn't a day he isn't in there for at least three hours.

But, then again, he never has been normal, she supposed. She knew he was working hard towards his dream, Kayla only wished she could do more to help. Unfortunately, that just wasn't possible.

*****

By seven and a half, he made his first bullet, casing and all. It was to be memorialized by sticking it on the fridge. At seven and three quarters he managed to modify his airsoft guns to actually be lethal. Two weeks later he built his first computer in this life. By eight, he had made multiple programs and apps.

With the extra cash he got from those endeavors, he pleaded for his Dad to buy an actual gun. He got a gun license and brought back a Glock 17. They said they'd support him and, well, his parents weren't lying.

While the Glock 17 had very good reliability, Michael doubted it'd do anything against some Heroes and Villains. He planned on getting a Smith & Wesson 500 for when he needed extra kick. For when even that wasn't enough, he decided a good M82 to the skull couldn't not bring down most things. If that didn't work, then he'd just try throwing poison at them.

After all, if he wanted to contend with Superheroes, the best way to do that... was to not contend with them. He'd always be weaker than them, slower, less dexterous, and any number of other things he'd be worse at.

For strength, reflexes, and speed, he had an idea on how to contend with Heroes with minor superhuman physiques, but he didn't know if it would work. Or if it was even healthy.

'Then again, trying to become a Hero while being Quirkless isn't an exact icon of health,' Michael thought sardonically to himself. But his thoughts were stuck on one thing that didn't seem to go away.

'Poison. Fuck. It seems I'm gonna need to study biology, chemistry, and herbology too, as well as the periodic table, again... damn.' He had a lot to do in what felt like little time.

*****

The human body had more strength than most people gave it credit for. Ever heard of something called Hysterical Strength? A mom lifting a car to save her child, or something similar?

Well, when in a fight-or-flight situation, the response starts in the amygdala, it activate the hypothalamus which release hormones Cortisol and Adrenaline. Adrenaline increases your heart rate and oxygen efficiency giving you a boost in strength. It also increases your hearing and sharpens your vision. Cortisol helps give you access to stored glucose for extra energy.

Endorphins, the feel good chemical which is released during physical activity lessens your perception of pain.

In addition, it seems physical conditioning helps output more adrenaline for extra boost in performance as shown by athletes. Endurance training is especially helpful for it.

Michael's goal for learning all this was to somehow learn how to mimick that for an extra edge when he needed it in combat. He needed to push his body to the limits if he even wanted to began to contend with Quirks.

But not yet. He was too young, and while most cases of Hysterical strength ends with exhaustion and torn muscles, he didn't know what it'd do on a young developing body.

*****

His workshop for a garage soon became a lab as well. Separated by a curtain of plastic. He also installed air purifiers, good ventilation, and wore a full face respirator at all times just in case. He felt like Dextor from Dextor's Laboratory.

He only had fourteen hours a day, not counting school hours, as he made sure to sleep for at least eight, eat, and go to bathroom. He needed to be as healthy as possible.

*****

By the time he was ten, Michael noticed an article involving All Might in a big fight. Probably against All For One, he assumed. So he was probably the same age as Izuku. Inconvenient yet not unexpected. If only he had more time to prepare. Now he knows how Batman must feel.

Having been a few years, as his knowledge accrued and built, he made a few poisons. Some neurotoxins and toxic chemical gases.

Ever heard of Mustard Gas, Sarin, or Chlorine Gas? Not bad if he said so himself.

How did he know they worked? Well, he tested it on rats. That might've made his parents, and older brother worry he was a sociopath and treading down the path of villainy, but worth it.

*****

By eleven years of age, he could officially proclaim himself as a proficient gunsmith. Having intricate knowledge of many different types of Firearms. He could assemble and dissamble a Glock 17 with his eyes closed. His accuracy on moving targets thirty meters away was around ninty percent for a pistol, sixty-five percent for a sniper rifle, and seventy-two percent for a rifle, the results courtesy of overpopulated deers during hunting season.

In all this time, Michael had continued to train at the Martial Schools, primarily focusing on cardiovascular exercises to help his endurance and stamina. Most Quirks used stamina, like Nejire Hado, so as long as he could outlast Heroes and Villains, he'd have a better chance of winning. This also took in consideration of Hysterical Strength which he had yet to test, yet couldn't wait to begin to do just that.

If he could truly mimic it, he'd have an actual fighting chance. If "that" person took the bait he'd lay in the future, then he would have a chance of standing among the big leagues.

The next two years would be the make or break it of his new life. At thirteen, he planned to make his debut as a vigilante to get experience fighting all types and manners of Quirks. He has a cousin who had a healing Quirk, so he didn't worry about straining his body, as long as he didn't go too far.

Thankfully, America was a bit more lenient with vigilante laws than Japan. Plus, he was a minor so he'd only get a slap on the wrist if he got caught. While it would stain his record, there was no better time to start heroics in relative safety.

Because nobody could fault someone for wanting to save a person, plus, he didn't have a quirk in the first place. So, technically, Michael didn't think he could count as a vigilante. At most he'd be charged for illegal possession of firearms.

It truly was the perfect time.