Chapter Text
When Inko Midoriya first held the pregnancy test in her trembling hands, she couldn’t stop the tears that spilled down her cheeks. After two years of prayers, late-night worries, and countless doctor visits, the word positive felt like a miracle. Her husband, Hisashi, cried too—though he would insist later that it was just dust from the old apartment they’d been renting.
Their struggles to conceive had been a quiet battle, one they faced with hope that grew thinner with each passing month. Each failed attempt had chipped away at their spirits, a cruel reminder of what they wanted so desperately but couldn’t seem to grasp. But now, here they were. After all the waiting and heartache, they had done it. A life was growing, small and precious, inside of her.
And now, that life sat nestled under a heating lamp in the hospital room.
Yes, it was an egg. A literal egg.
The labor had come three months early, sending waves of panic through Inko as nurses rushed to help her deliver. Exhausted but relieved, Inko now lay on the hospital bed, her hand firmly clasped in Hisashi’s. The soft beeping of monitors and the quiet hum of hospital equipment filled the room, but her focus remained on the strange, beautiful thing they’d brought into the world.
“You’re sure this is... normal?” Hisashi asked again, eyeing the egg cautiously from where it rested under the warmth of the heating lamp. The nurse, clearly suppressing a smile, gave him a patient nod as she adjusted the blankets around it.
“Hisashi, we’ve been over this. The doctor said it’s a rare mutation—something from my great-grandparents’ Quirks,” Inko explained gently, though she still felt a bit odd saying it out loud. “It skips generations sometimes, apparently. They think it triggered some reptilian traits.”
“Reptilian,” Hisashi echoed faintly, as though testing the word on his tongue.
Inko tilted her head to get a better look at the egg, which now rested snugly beneath the heat lamp. The shell was nothing like she’d imagined—soft and leathery, like parchment, with a faint green tint and darker freckles of brown and deep green scattered across it. Almost as though it had been plucked from nature itself. The nurse grunted softly as she carefully lugged it into place, surprising Hisashi with its apparent weight.
“It’s strange,” Inko murmured, her voice soft but filled with wonder. “How does a man with fire breath and a woman with telekinesis end up with this?”
“Freak mutation,” Hisashi replied dryly, quoting the doctor, but there was no bitterness in his tone—just that same lingering disbelief.
Inko smiled faintly, a small, reassuring expression. “Yes, and our freak mutation at that.”
The nurse turned back to them with a kind smile, brushing her hands together as if satisfied with her work. “The doctor left instructions on how to care for the egg. I’ll grab those for you in a moment, but for now, try to rest, Ms. Midoriya.”
Rest. Easier said than done when your child had come into the world in such an extraordinary fashion.
Apparently, the egg’s early arrival was a natural part of the process. Whatever was inside needed extra time to develop its... well, less-than-human parts. The doctors had reassured them that, while the shell resembled that of a reptile, it was still human enough to require months of careful care—longer than the 10 to 30 days for a bird egg, longer even than the 4 to 8 weeks for most reptiles. At one point, Inko and Hisashi had spent an entire evening researching egg incubation times, comparing notes on birds, lizards, and amphibians as though preparing for a science fair.
“Four to eight weeks would’ve been nice,” Inko muttered with a sleepy smile, pulling Hisashi’s attention away from his thoughts.
“Research won’t help much now,” he teased softly, though he glanced at the egg again as if expecting something to happen. “We’re in uncharted territory here.”
“I guess we’ll need to set alarms,” Inko murmured the faintest hint of humor in her voice. “We can’t forget to rotate it. Don’t want it getting lopsided.”
Hisashi huffed a laugh, though it came out a little shaky. “I think this is the first time I’ve regretted not reading more about birds or lizards.”
Inko smiled tiredly, sinking deeper into her pillow as her body finally began to relax. “You’ve got time to research, Dad. I’ll make a list of everything we’ll need. Maybe a bigger lamp. And blankets. And... oh, it’s going to be a lot, isn’t it?”
Hisashi let out a mock groan but gave her hand another reassuring squeeze. “Don’t worry about it. We’ve waited this long—we’ll figure it out. We always do.”
As the nurse left the room, Inko let her eyes drift back to the egg, bathed in the soft glow of the heating lamp. It wasn’t what they’d expected—not at all—but it was theirs.
This strange little egg—this child—was their miracle. And whether their baby hatched tomorrow, next week, or months from now, she knew one thing for certain.
They were ready to love whatever came out of that shell with everything they had.
—————
The Midoriyas brought the egg home two months ago, a fragile, soft-shelled thing they had cradled like glass. Over time, it hardened, solidifying into something akin to a large bird’s egg. Since then, both Inko and Hisashi had fallen into a careful routine, arranging secretive breaks from work and asking friends to “cover emergencies” just so they could hurry home and rotate their unhatched child under the heating lamp.
At first, they hadn’t told anyone about their egg baby. How could they? It was strange—unheard of, even. But secrets couldn’t last forever. Mitsuki, Inko’s best friend, had already noticed the lack of swelling as Inko’s body gradually returned to her pre-pregnancy size. Mitsuki, herself a new mother, was too nosy and too caring not to ask questions. Their bosses, too, had raised brows at their frequent absences. As a result, the Midoriyas became accidental experts in dodging awkward conversations and mastering vague explanations before they were eventually forced to fess up and explain themselves.
But none of those conversations weighed on Inko’s mind as heavily as the moment her husband’s frantic voice erupted from downstairs.
“Honey!” Hisashi’s tone was a mix of sheer panic and shaky excitement. “HONEY! You might want to come down here! I think—I think there’s a crack!”
Inko froze. Her heart stopped mid-beat. “Again?” she mumbled, but her voice lacked conviction. Hisashi had cried wolf twice before, swearing he’d seen the shell move or splinter. Each time, her adrenaline had surged uselessly. She sighed, forcing herself to her feet. “If this is another false alarm, I swear…” she grumbled as she shuffled down the hall.
The words died in her throat when she entered the living room.
Hisashi hovered anxiously over the egg, pale and trembling as he pointed at it with shaking hands. “It’s real this time! Look!”
Inko’s breath caught. There, clear as day, was a jagged crack running across the once-smooth surface of the egg. It wasn’t a trick of the light. It wasn’t just her husband’s overactive imagination. It was happening.
“Oh no,” Hisashi babbled, his voice rising in pitch. “Oh no, are they hatching? Or did we break it? Oh god, what if we broke it while rotating them? Inko, we broke our kid!”
“Hisashi, stop panicking,” Inko said quickly, though her own nerves buzzed like live wires under her skin. She watched the egg as another crack splintered outward with a faint, audible pop. “They’re fine. I think… I think we’re supposed to let them do this on their own. That’s what birds do.”
“Birds? Inko, he’s not a bird! He’s our kid!”
“Our kid who is coming out of an egg! ” Inko shot back, barely clinging to her composure. Before Hisashi could spiral further, they both flinched as a small, sudden thud sounded from inside the shell. A tiny push—another crack —and then silence.
Their breaths hitched. The room seemed to still, as though holding its breath with them.
“Why did they stop? Did they…?” Hisashi’s voice cracked as he leaned forward, his face filled with dread. “Are they stuck? Hurt? Should we—”
“Don’t touch it!” Inko’s voice trembled, but her grip on Hisashi’s wrist was firm. “We don’t know if we’re supposed to help. Just… wait.”
Minutes ticked by like hours. The cracks spidered slowly, but their child remained hidden. Hisashi fidgeted, his hands wringing a towel he’d grabbed in a fit of misplaced preparation. The tension was unbearable. “Do we call someone? A doctor? A—what, a vet? Who do you even call for this?!”
“I don’t know, but calm down! Loud noises could…” Her voice trailed off. Could what , exactly? Scare their baby? Stress the egg? Hurt its… snake parts? The uncertainty gnawed at her, filling her mind with absurd worries. Was their child sensitive to sound? Were they reptiles? Birds? Something else entirely?
Another sharp crack made them both flinch, cutting through their spiraling thoughts. “Hisashi!” Inko gasped, gripping his arm.
A look of realization seemed to cross his face, “wait!” He whisper-yelled looking over his shoulder in a panic, “Hold on I have to grab something!” and with that he sprinted out of the room, leaving Inko alone with their egg child.
“Wha- now?!” he stared after him in annoyance, before the soft chipping noise of her child shell drew her attention back in.
This time, it wasn’t just a crack. A tiny fist pushed through the shell, trembling with effort before retreating back inside. The surface trembled, as though their child were gathering strength, and then—another surge. Cracks webbed across the shell in quick, staccato bursts.
“His-Hisashi!” she choked out, resisting the urge to hover, “they’re almost out.” Heavy footsteps sounded as her husband raced into the room with a handful of towels and a couple of raggedy blankets in his arms. She raised a confused brow at him, “what are those for?”
“Oh um,” he looked down at the cloths in his hands as if wondering that himself, “well, human and bird babies are gross when they’re born so I thought I’d try and prepare. I mean, unless they have some kind of reptile mutation, then they shouldn’t be so…slimy, but it’s still better to be prepared right?”
She opened her mouth to respond but quickly shut it as she watched all the color seemingly drain out of her husband's face. Staring intently at the egg, Hisashi looked like he might faint at any second. “Oh, it’s happening. It’s happening. Oh god, it’s really happening.”
Neither of them dared to move or breathe as the egg finally split open with a sharp, echoing snap . A moment later, a wailing cry pierced the silence.
The Midoriyas stared in stunned silence as their newborn child emerged, squirming in the broken remains of the egg. Pale skin dotted with thousands of freckles. Two fuzzy, fragile-looking stumps stuck out of their back, twitching as the baby’s cries rang out. But most striking of all was the scalp—layered with glistening, scales of various colors, that broke apart into a writhing nest of tiny snakes. They flicked their tongues and hissed softly, their colorful forms tangling and untangling before curling protectively around their host’s face.
Inko’s throat tightened. Snakes . Her mind screamed warnings she couldn’t suppress. Were they poisonous? Were they dangerous? She couldn’t bring herself to move closer, terrified of hurting her child—or being hurt by them.
But Hisashi, to her shock, didn’t hesitate. “Hey there,” he murmured softly, eyes wide with wonder as he scooped their child up into his arms. “You’re here, huh? You made it.” He rocked the baby gently, his voice filled with awe.
Inko could only watch, tears blurring her vision. The snakes lifted their heads as Hisashi spoke, tongues flicking curiously, but they made no move to strike. Their baby’s cries quieted slightly, though sniffles and wails still punctuated the air.
“Look at him, Inko.” Hisashi turned toward her, his face beaming as though he held the world itself in his hands. “He’s perfect. He’s… not gross at all.”
That ridiculous, heartfelt statement finally broke the tension. A shaky laugh escaped Inko’s lips. “Of course, he’s not gross,” she whispered, though her voice shook with emotion. Tentatively, she stepped forward. The snakes regarded her warily, but as she reached out to wrap her son in a soft blanket, they settled. And when tear-filled green eyes blinked up at her, her heart melted.
“Hey there,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “Welcome to the world.”
Hisashi jolted as if remembering something and gently placed the baby into her arms. “The camera! I’ll be right back!”
“What?” Inko blinked at the empty space where her husband had stood. She looked down at the wriggling bundle in her arms, the snakes now settling into a soft, rhythmic sway. “Your father’s a mess,” she whispered, a smile tugging at her lips.
Moments later, Hisashi burst back into the room, triumphantly holding up their camera. “Alright, smile! We’re going to document everything.”
And so began an impromptu photoshoot, where Hisashi’s hands shook with excitement and his camera clicked relentlessly. Inko laughed through her exhaustion, her heart full and her fears momentarily forgotten. Their child—their little miracle—was here.
And they were perfect.
_________
“Why do you need so many pictures? It’s not like he’s going anywhere,” she eventually complained after one too many camera flashes. Don’t get her wrong—she was excited too—but wasn’t it supposed to be the mother who went crazy over all this stuff? Hisashi pouted over the camera, and she only just held back another laugh.
“Well, excuse me for being excited! Besides, I need something to show the guys back at work.” Hisashi grinned, undeterred, as he adjusted the camera lens for what had to be the fiftieth time that hour. Being a firefighter at a nearby station meant his coworkers were a second family, but lately, they’d teased him mercilessly for being so “out of it” while he prepared for the new baby. He brought the camera back up to his face, squinting one eye to center the shot. “Hey, Izuku, look at Daddy!” he cooed, voice softening as though the tiny newborn could understand.
“ Izuku ?” Inko’s eyebrow shot up as she stared at him, unimpressed.
“Yeah, that’s his name,” Hisashi said so casually that she wondered if they’d already had the conversation and she’d somehow forgotten.
“Oh, is it? And who decided this?” Her voice carried a pointed edge, one that could’ve cut through steel, and Hisashi finally seemed to pick up on it. Slowly, he lowered the camera.
“Come on, honey, it’s a great name,” he soothed, flashing her a winning grin. He turned his attention back to the baby, now awake but blinking slowly, fists curled near his chubby cheeks. “Isn’t it, Izuku?” He extended a finger toward the baby, who promptly latched onto it with an iron grip.
The baby made a tiny gurgling noise, which Hisashi eagerly interpreted as agreement. “See? He’s totally on board.”
“Oh, sure,” Inko retorted, crossing her arms. “Because a barely day old baby knows exactly what he’s agreeing to. You’re really going to use him to win an argument?”
Hisashi pulled his hand back to clasp his palms together under his chin, unleashing his full arsenal: the pout and puppy eyes. The look had gotten him out of trouble before—broken dishes, forgotten chores, and the one time he tried to make soufflé without a recipe—but Inko wasn’t about to crumble so easily this time.
“I thought we agreed to discuss this together,” she added, sighing. They really had planned for everything, from nursery colors to which family members got to visit first. But somehow, amidst all the planning, they’d completely forgotten to settle on a name.
Her tone softened slightly as she tilted her head. “I still like Mikumo.”
Hisashi’s grin faltered as he pressed a hand dramatically to his heart. “Mikumo’s not bad, but it doesn’t have the same ring to it! Think about it, Inko. Izuku means ‘ one who can achieve ’—it’s full of promise, you know? A name for someone strong and kind.”
She paused at that, glancing down at their baby. Strong and kind. That was all she’d ever want for him. He stirred slightly in his blanket, one tiny hand sneaking out as if to wave. She could feel herself softening despite her best efforts.
“You’ve really been thinking about this, haven’t you?” she muttered.
“I mean…” He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Kind of? You know how long I’ve been picturing this day, Inko. And doesn’t he look like an Izuku?”
With a small smile, she leaned back against the pillows, studying their son’s round face and peaceful expression. “He looks like a baby, Hisashi.”
Her husband held out a triumphant finger. “A baby named Izuku.”
Inko groaned and dragged a hand down her face, though a smile peeked through. “You’re impossible, you know that?”
“And yet you love me anyway,” he said brightly, reaching over to ruffle her hair. “Come on, just say it once. I promise it’ll grow on you.”
She rolled her eyes but relented, tilting her head down toward the baby. “Izuku,” she murmured softly, testing the name.
The baby responded with a little coo, almost like he was agreeing for real this time. Inko shot her husband an accusatory look, but Hisashi was practically beaming.
“See? He loves it!”
“You’re just lucky he can’t talk yet,” she said, though her voice was light and teasing. “Fine. You win. Izuku it is.”
“Yes!” Hisashi fist-pumped the air like a child who’d just won his favorite game. He held his hand back out to the baby. “High five, Izuku!”
The baby’s fingers curled once more around his father’s thumb, and Hisashi let out a victorious laugh.
“You know,” Inko said with a playful sigh, watching the scene unfold, “he’s going to be a daddy’s boy, isn’t he?”
“Well, who could blame him?” Hisashi shot back without missing a beat. “He’s got the best dad in the world, after all.”
She snorted, shaking her head at his antics, but her heart swelled with affection as she watched her husband beam down at their son. Her worries about the name, about everything, faded into the background in the face of this small, perfect moment.
“Here,” Hisashi said suddenly, handing her the camera. “Your turn. I need some shots of us together too.”
Inko took the camera with an amused smile as Hisashi carefully gathered Izuku into his arms, holding him close. “Say cheese, little guy!”
Click. The shutter whirred softly, capturing the moment forever: a father and his son, the start of something new. And in that moment, Inko decided maybe the name “Izuku” really was perfect after all.
—————
In the cozy nursery bathed in the soft glow of afternoon sunlight, Inko Midoriya gazed at her newborn son, Izuku, swaddled snugly in emerald blankets. His tiny chest rose and fell with each peaceful breath, but tranquility was fleeting. Atop his head, where tufts of baby hair should have been, a tangle of serpentine locks writhed with a mind of their own, startling him awake with each unpredictable jolt.
"Look at him, Hisashi," Inko whispered, a mix of awe and worry in her voice as she gently adjusted one of the squirming snakes. "They're so... active."
Hisashi stood shoulder to shoulder with his wife, his broad frame casting a protective shadow over the crib. A tender smile played on his lips, a father's pride evident even through the flicker of concern that had settled in his heart. "Well, it’s clear he's going to be quite the adventurer once he's older, right?" he said with a soft chuckle, watching as Izuku's tiny hand swatted at a particularly bold snake that dared to venture too close to his cherubic face.
"Careful." Hisashi's voice held a playful note as he brushed his fingertips against the small feathers sprouting on Izuku's back. The tufts quivered at the touch, delicate as the first leaves of spring. "We’ll have to make sure he doesn’t lay on his back too much. Those little wings could get damaged."
Inko smiled, though her fingers worked deftly to file Izuku's nails, which were sharper than any storybook talon. "We'll need to keep these trimmed too. Can't have him hurting himself."
"Indeed," Hisashi agreed, his gaze unwavering as Izuku began to stir. The movement sent the serpentine locks into a frenzy, causing Izuku's head to bobble precariously. A soft whine escaped his mouth. In a quick, protective motion, Hisashi reached forward to steady his son's head before being forced to pull his hands back to avoid the snap of one of the restless snakes.
Holding his hands out uselessly, Hisashi glanced between Izuku and Inko. "He's gonna get hurt if he keeps getting rattled around like that."
As if sensing his parents' watchful eyes, Izuku’s green orbs flicked open, filled with a mix of innocence, curiosity, and a hint of annoyance at his rude awakening. His gaze settled on the shapes and shadows dancing above him before finally locking onto Inko and Hisashi. Even at such a young age, there was a spark in his eyes that both parents couldn’t help but marvel at.
"...We'll figure something out," Inko finally said. Her voice carried a determination that hid her growing worries. "Although, we may need to invest in some snake-handling equipment..." They needed a way to interact with their son without the risk of being nipped by the unpredictable serpents atop his head. But for now, the snakes seemed to settle, curling into a messy lump atop Izuku's head, their restless energy finally giving way to a light sleep of their own. With a relieved sigh, Izuku seemed to sink back into his crib, drifting off once more.
_________
Some weeks later, the bustling city thrived outside the Midoriya home, its ceaseless rhythm a backdrop to the serenity of Izuku’s nursery. Heroes patrolled the streets, blending seamlessly into a world where Quirks were the norm. Yet within these quiet, hand-painted walls adorned with playful clouds and open fields, Izuku Midoriya was anything but ordinary.
"Look how he follows the mobile," Inko whispered, her voice a mix of wonder and a touch of melancholy. Above Izuku’s crib, wooden bunny figures jumped through the air, circling the crib with slow, playful rotations.
With a rabbit plush loosely clutched in his tiny hand, Izuku bounced it in the air as if it were hopping on its own. The snakes atop his head bobbed in sync with the plush’s motion, while his eyes remained locked onto the spinning mobile.
"His eyes... they don’t miss a thing," Hisashi observed, pride glinting in his gaze before it gave way to a flicker of unease. “Do you think the snake eyes help him see better? Or—wait, do you think we can see through their eyes—”
Inko pressed a gentle hand to her husband’s mouth before he could spiral into further theories. Hisashi’s muffled protests fell silent as they turned their attention back to Izuku, whose small fingers reached eagerly for the dancing wooden shapes. His feathery wings rustled with delight, and the serpents atop his head bobbed in time to an unheard tune, enchanted by his curiosity.
“In this world, not everyone will see you as we do,” Inko murmured softly, more to herself than to her son. It seemed that it didn’t matter where she took her son, for they always received strange looks even if the boy was only a baby. She couldn’t even imagine how things would change as he grew older. Her smile held steady, but her words betrayed the ache in her heart. “But here, you are our precious boy.”
Hisashi placed a steadying hand on her back, his voice unwavering. “It’ll be okay. He’ll soar higher than anyone’s judgment. He’s our kid, after all. Nothing keeps a Midoriya down.”
Outside the window, the first stars began to glimmer in the darkening sky, blending with the city’s distant hum. Here, within the warmth of the nursery and the unshakable love of his parents, Izuku Midoriya was simply a boy—a boy with snakes atop his head, feathers sprouting from his back, and eyes that held the boundless wonder of the world waiting for him beyond the walls.