My all female Academia

Sunlight warmed the Midoriya's garden, a perfect 28 degrees for a bright and cozy early June. A few fluffy clouds drifted by, endlessly drifting in the Sky until they disappeared back into the ground.

"Got you now, Villain!" yelled six-year-old Izuku. He aimed his water pistol at his friend, pretending to be his favorite TV hero. "Sky Kick," he screamed as a splash of water shot towards her.

"So you finally came, Aspire!" shouted five-year-old Katsumi, spraying back. "BIG BANG BEAM!" Her loud cry bounced around the quiet street.

"Hey!" Izuku yelped, ducking behind the swing. It didn't help much – a stream smacked him right in the nose. He stumbled out, dripping wet. "We were supposed to be Aspire vs. Gigadrill! Not vs Hectojon! You gotta say, 'So you finally came, you... you... Hypo-Hypo-Hypocrite!'" He tripped over the long, grown-up word.

"Pbbbbt!" Katsumi stuck her tongue out, swinging her water pistol onto her shoulder. Her clothes were damp too. "Hectojon's WAY cooler than dumb Gigadrill. he was so cool against Gang Orca."

Izuku wiped water from his eyes, spotting the garden hose nearby. A mischievous grin spread across his face. "Okay... if you're being Hectojon..." He dashed to the hose, fumbling with the tap. "...then I call SUPER GANG ORCA!" A huge gush of water erupted, soaking Katsumi's body.

"WAAAH!" Katsumi squealed, running. "Cheater! Super gang orca isn't real!"

"Is now!" Izuku laughed, waving the hose wildly. "He's got the BIGGEST splash power!

Sunlight dappled the veranda where Mitsuki Bakugou and Inko Midoriya sat. Mitsuki chuckled softly, watching Katsumi shriek of terror as Izuku chased her with the hose. "Haha," Mitsuki murmured.
She absently put down the teacup into her lap before turning fully to Inko. "Your Izuku... he's such a lovely boy. Pure sunshine."

Inko took a slow sip of her green tea, the steam curling gently in the warm air. Her eyes followed the children, a soft, wistful smile touching her lips. "He is... wonderfully energetic. I just hope they don't catch a cold out there, soaking wet." She paused, the smile fading slightly, a shadow of sadness in her voice.
"It truly warms my heart to see him so happy... especially after... well, after everything." Her gaze drifted past Mitsuki, back into the quiet living room.

Inside, the remnants of celebration lingered. A brightly frosted birthday cake, half-devoured, sat proudly on the table, surrounded by colourful streamers and balloons. Scattered plates where on the table,all placed for an big children birthday.

Only on four of them where crumbs on.

"Especially on such a special day," Inko added softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Mitsuki followed her friend's gaze to the cake, then let her own eyes drop to the smooth wood of the veranda floor. She traced a knot in the grain with her finger. "I know, Inko," she said, her voice lower now.

A beat of silence stretched, filled only by the distant shrieks and laughter from the garden. "I... I actually went to see a specialist," she confessed, looking up. "A doctor. Up in Hokkaido."

"Hokkaido?" Inko blinked, setting her cup down with a soft clink. Surprise etched her features. "Mitsuki, that's... that's so far! Even with the bullet train, that's a journey."

"I know," Mitsuki nodded, a fragile, hopeful smile flickering across her face as she took another sip of tea. "But... this doctor... he said there might still be a chance. For Katsumi. Just because of one tiny, stubborn bone in her little toe." Her smile wobbled. "Quirks... they can be so cruel, can't they? Just twisting things... just because my little Katsumi doe–" She cut herself off abruptly, her eyes widening as she saw the familiar downward tilt of Inko's head. Worry flooded her expression. "Oh, Inko, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to... I know that Izu–"

"It's fine, Mitsuki," Inko interrupted gently, her voice steady but quiet. She kept her eyes fixed on the grain of the wooden floorboards, her fingers tight around her teacup. She took another slow sip. "I... I accepted that path a long time ago." Finally, she lifted her head, meeting Mitsuki's anxious gaze directly. Her eyes held a deep, quiet resolve beneath the sadness. "If the gods decided to give me a son? Then that is my son. That is Izuku. I can't change the body he was born with..." She held Mitsuki's look, her voice firm but kind.

"Hey Mom," Izuku panted, bouncing anxiously on his toes, "can me and Katsumi watch TV? SuperGirls starts in five minutes!" His green eyes darted between his mother and the clock inside.

Inko's smile softened the worry lines around her eyes. "Of course, sweet pea. But dry yourself and Katsumi properly first, hmm?" She gestured toward the hallway. "Fresh towels are in the bathroom cupboard."

"Thanks Mom!" Izuku chirped, already scrambling back toward the garden where Katsumi waited.

The mothers watched his retreating form, sunlight catching the water droplets sparkling in his hair. A shared silence settled between them, heavy with unspoken thoughts about birthdays and Quirks and little boys who still hadn't—

"Mommy! MOMMY!"

Katsumi’s voice, sharp with urgency, shattered the quiet. She thundered up the veranda steps, skidding to a halt directly in front of Mitsuki. Her small chest heaved, cheeks flushed pink from running. Both hands were clenched tightly together in front of her, knuckles white, pressed close to her stomach like she was guarding something incredibly precious – or incredibly fragile.

"Mitsuki?" Inko murmured, leaning forward slightly.

"Firecracker?" Mitsuki asked, setting her teacup down carefully. A flicker of wary amusement crossed her face. "What's got you running like a startled rabbit? Did you find a super-special bug?" She braced herself, imagining a wriggling beetle or a fuzzy caterpillar nestled in her daughter's palms. "Please don't let it be something slimy", she thought, already summoning a cheerful tone.

Katsumi shook her head violently, sending damp pigtails swinging. Her eyes were wide, impossibly round, fixed entirely on her own clenched fists. Not scared, Mitsuki realized, but vibrating with a kind of awe. "No bug," Katsumi breathed, her voice suddenly hushed. "It's... ." She slowly, so slowly, began to lift her cupped hands. Her arms trembled with the effort of holding them perfectly still.

Inko held her breath. Mitsuki leaned closer, her earlier amusement replaced by genuine curiosity. The air on the veranda grew thick, charged with the little girl’s intense focus. Sunlight glinted off the water still beading on Katsumi’s skin.

"Look..." Katsumi whispered.

A faint, almost imperceptible snap sound, like a tiny bubble popping. Then another.

Golden light, bright and brief, flickered on the Palm of her Daughers Hand . Like captured fireflies trying to escape.

Mitsuki’s breath caught in her throat. Her eyes snapped from her daughter’s trembling hands to her face. Katsumi was staring at her HAnds tears welling and spilling over her lower lashes, tracing clean paths through the garden dirt on her cheeks.

"Is... is this..." Katsumi’s voice cracked, thick with emotion. "...my Quirk?"

Mitsuki froze. Time suspended. The sparks reflected in her wide, stunned eyes. Then a choked sob tore itself from her chest as she lunged forward, sweeping Katsumi into a crushing, fierce hug. "YES, baby! Oh YES!" She buried her face in her daughter's damp hair, her own shoulders shaking, voice thick and muffled by tears. "Your Quirk! It's perfect! It's yours!"

Inko knelt beside them, her own eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "Absolutely beautiful, sweetheart," she murmured, her voice thick with emotion.

She gently, reverently, brushed her fingertip near where the last spark had danced on Katsumi’s wrist. "Like little stars."

The bathroom door clicked open. Towels tumbled from Izuku's arms, landing in a muffled heap at his feet. He stood frozen in the shadowed hallway, all color drained from his face, his green eyes fixed on the spot above Katsumi’s hands where the sparks had been. His voice, when it came, was flat and hollow, cutting through the joyful moment like shattered ice:

"Quirk..."

The single word hung in the warm air, sharp and cold.

Both mothers jerked around as if struck. Mitsuki’s tear-streaked face snapped towards the hallway, her arms still wrapped protectively around Katsumi. Inko shot upright from her kneeling position, her hand flying to her mouth, teacup forgotten.

Izuku didn’t see them move. He felt… detached. Like he was floating somewhere near the ceiling, looking down at a small, soaking wet boy with messy green hair, standing alone in a dark hallway.
That boy’s wide eyes stared blankly past the celebrating figures on the sunny veranda, past the half-eaten birthday cake inside.

Thinking back, even as a little kid, I understood it then

"Look, Zuku!" Katsumi’s voice, bright with wonder, pierced the fog surrounding the boy in the hallway. She wriggled free from her mother's embrace, holding her sparking palm out towards him, her tears replaced by pure, shining excitement. "See?! Is so cool! Now I can be like Aspire! I can be the Number One Hero! Just like we said!"

But her words hit a wall. They washed over the Izuku standing in the hallway like water over stone. His eyes weren't on her sparks. It was fixed on the faces of the adults – his mother and Auntie Mitsuki.

They don’t need to say it out loud; It’s written all over them.

Bot of the Adults looked at him with the same eyes,even if they where on different Peoples Head.

Their eyes – red and green, love and pity, sorrow and fear – held him pinned in the hallway's shadow. They screamed the truth his child's heart was already, devastatingly, beginning to grasp: Your story is different now, Izuku.

The sparkles above Katsumi’s hand popped and fizzed, tiny celebrations in a world that had just gone terribly quiet for the small boy surrounded by fallen towels.