Ren lay on the stretcher, his small body surrounded by a swarm of doctors and nurses. The harsh fluorescent lights reflected off the pools of crimson forming beneath him. Blood seeped from his ears, nose, and even the corners of his closed eyes, as if his body itself were being eaten from the inside. The sheer volume was terrifying.
He had poured everything into healing his mother. He had even copied one of the nurses' quirk, Healing Light, and poured all of the energy Volt Hair could generate to heal her. Copying another quirk pushed his fragile body beyond its limits.
"Quirks ready! Now!" a lead doctor shouted, urgency cracking his voice.
Ren's heart was still beating—but barely. Every second felt like a lifetime, each pulse a tremor threatening to stop.
Shit! All Might's fists clenched, knuckles white. Ifonly I had been faster… none of this would have happened. Nothing. Shit… shit…
The nurses and doctors formed a circle around Ren, hands glowing with faint green light. They tried to support him, infusing quirk-based healing, but his body twitched violently, rejecting the aid. His blood loss spiked threefold.
"What's happening?!" one nurse screamed, panic rising.
"Young kid!" All Might shouted, gripping Ren's small hand tightly. "Fight! Survive! Don't let your mother down! How could she live without you?!"
Ren's body convulsed. Machines beeped furiously. Nurses' quirks flared, lights colliding in chaotic streaks.
And then… slowly… miraculously…
His heart rate steadied. The bleeding slowed. His body began to stabilize.
"What… he stabilized?" one nurse whispered, disbelief etching her face.
All Might exhaled sharply, relief washing over him, mirrored by the rest of the medical team.
But the relief was short-lived. Ren's vitals began dropping again, rapidly.
"Shit! He lost too much blood!" a doctor yelled. "Quick! Someone get A-Type blood!"
All Might sprang into action. "There's no time!" he barked.
"I'll do it! Use my blood! I'm A-Type!" Without hesitation, he slashed his arm.
A nurse immediately connected him to Ren, using her blood-transfusion quirk to link All Might's flow directly to the boy. She bridged the two, hands glowing crimson as the miracle unfolded.
All Might gritted his teeth as he felt the life leaving him, but his eyes never left Ren. The boy's vitals began climbing, slowly, then steadily. Color returned to his cheeks, his chest rising and falling with newfound strength.
Ren's body was finally stable.
The room exhaled as one. Doctors, nurses, and All Might alike sank into their knees, relief palpable in the sterile air.
Ren's chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm. He was alive.
...
"...Mom!"
The word tore from Ren's throat the instant his eyes snapped open.
For a moment, he didn't understand where he was — white ceiling, sterile air, the steady beep of a heart monitor beside him. But then everything came rushing back: the fight, the hospital, the light—his mother.
"Mom!"
He ripped off the blanket and stumbled out of bed.
Or at least… he tried to stumble.
But strangely—he didn't feel weak. His legs were steady, his breathing normal. His body didn't ache like someone who'd barely survived a fatal incident. It was as if his cells were burning with quiet vitality.
His heart hammered, not from exhaustion, but from desperation.
"Where is she?" he muttered, pulling the IV line from his arm and rushing to the door. The nurses' shouts followed immediately.
"Hey! You can't leave your room!"
"Kid—wait!"
But Ren didn't even look back. He ran. Faster than he ever had before.
His hospital gown fluttered behind him as he sprinted down the polished corridors, his bare feet slapping the floor. Every door he passed, he shoved open. Every room, he scanned for silver hair and familiar features.
"Mom!"
"Mom!"
Nothing.
He reached the second floor. Then the third. The fourth. His Volt Hair crackled faintly, responding to his rising panic.
And then—fifth floor.
He turned a corner and froze.
Through the open door, sunlight filtered through the blinds, falling over a pale figure lying motionless on a hospital bed. Tubes connected to her arms, machines hummed beside her. Her silver hair spread across the pillow like liquid light.
"Mom…" Ren whispered.
He took a step forward, then another, until he was beside her bed. Her chest rose and fell rhythmically, but her eyes… they didn't open.
He touched her hand. It was warm. But she didn't move.
"What… why is she still…" His voice cracked. "She should've been fine. I healed her… didn't I?"
The door creaked open behind him.
A man in a white coat entered—a doctor, holding a clipboard. He stopped short when he saw the boy by the bed.
"Ah… you're awake." His expression softened. "You shouldn't be up, kid. You need rest."
Ren didn't answer. His gaze was locked on his mother's still face.
The doctor sighed quietly and walked closer, resting a gentle hand on the boy's trembling shoulder. "I'm sorry, little one," he said, voice low. "She's in a coma. We don't know when she'll wake up…"
Ren froze.
The words didn't make sense.
Coma.
His chest tightened, his breathing stuttered. He turned toward the doctor, eyes wide, uncomprehending.
"B-But… I healed her," he whispered, voice breaking. "She was fine… her heart was beating again… I saw it…"
"I know." The doctor's eyes softened further. "You saved her life. But her body… it's still recovering from what she went through. Sometimes, the mind needs time to return."
Ren's lips trembled. His colorless eyes began to glisten. "But… she's my mom…"
His voice was small now. Fractured.
The doctor's hand remained steady on his shoulder, but there was nothing else he could say.
Ren turned back to her. His fingers tightened around her hand as if afraid she'd disappear if he let go.
...
Four years had passed since the day his mother closed her eyes.
Four long, years.
She hadn't woken up. Not even once.
No one knew how she was still alive—her body was stable, her vitals steady, but her consciousness... gone, trapped somewhere unreachable.
Ren Takeda, now twelve, stood beside her hospital bed, a bouquet of fresh lilies in his hands.
"Hey, Mom," he said softly, placing the flowers beside her. "It's me again."
His voice had deepened a little over the years, but the warmth in it still cracked at the edges. He reached out and brushed a strand of silver hair from her face before leaning down and kissing her forehead.
"I love you."
He smiled—a faint, practiced expression that never reached his eyes. Then he turned to leave.
"Reina…"
The voice came from behind him—quiet, weary, but familiar.
A tall, thin man stepped into the light of the room, one hand pressed over the side of his ribs as if to steady himself. His blonde hair was disheveled, his eyes sunken but kind. Toshinori Yagi. The world knew him as All Might—the Symbol of Peace. But this was his true self: fragile, scarred, and fading.
He placed a trembling hand on Ren's shoulder. "Your son is growing up really well…" he murmured to the unconscious woman, as if she could hear him.
Ren glanced up at him, silent. Then, the two of them left the room together.
...
They walked side by side through the hospital corridors.
Toshinori glanced down at the boy. "She'd be proud of you, you know," he said quietly.
Ren didn't answer. His expression didn't change.
When Reina had fallen into a coma, Ren was to be sent to foster care. But Toshinori couldn't let that happen.
Reina wasn't just a former colleague. She was the little girl he'd once met when visiting U.A. students as the Number 1 Hero—lonely, isolated, unloved until she found her place as a hero. She always lit up whenever he was around, and had even done the hero internship under him.
She was almost like a daughter for him.
He couldn't abandon her son.
So Toshinori Yagi—Symbol of Peace, Number One Hero—became a guardian.
And for four years, he trained the boy.
...
Ren's life became a constant cycle of school, hospital visits, and brutal training sessions. Toshinori didn't go easy on him. Not out of cruelty—but because he saw the same spark in Ren that had once burned in young heroes like himself.
Now, at twelve, Ren's body was beyond extraordinary. Years of relentless conditioning had forged him into the epitome of human physicality. Every muscle was defined, yet flexible—his movements silent, efficient.
Part of it was training.
Part of it was his Quirks.
He'd copied another one: Muscle Fiber—a simple enhancement quirk that improved muscle power, elasticity, and density.
But that alone wasn't what made him powerful.
What truly changed him was what had happened that night—four years ago, in that hospital room.
When his body was collapsing under the weight of his copied quirks, Toshinori had grabbed his hand in desperation.
And in that moment—Copycat acted on its own.
Ren had copied One For All.
But the version he inherited wasn't like All Might's. It didn't explode with overwhelming strength or destructive energy.
No—Ren's One For All was different.
It formed an inner world within him—a sanctuary of quirks, a system of balance and synergy where every copied ability could coexist without tearing his body apart.
That's how he survived.
Later, Toshinori explained the truth. One For All had started as a simple stockpiling quirk—a vessel meant to store and strengthen power over generations. What Ren had copied was that pure, original version—the empty vessel itself.
And in that vessel, his quirks lived in harmony.
Toshinori eventually told Ren everything.
And in return, Ren confessed his own secret.
They were family now.
...
"Hey," Toshinori said as they left the hospital into the soft evening light. "You're quiet again today."
Ren shrugged. "Nothing to say."
"You're allowed to talk, you know," Toshinori said with a small chuckle that turned into a cough.
Ren's eyes flickered toward him, momentarily concerned, but the man waved it off.
They walked a few more steps before Toshinori said quietly, "She wouldn't want you to close yourself off like this."
Ren stopped walking. His expression didn't change, but his hands curled slightly into fists.
"She's in a coma because of me," he said. His voice was calm—too calm. "I'm not strong enough... I have to... get my revenge on those bastards first..."
Toshinori opened his mouth to respond, but the boy had already walked past him.
Ren wasn't just quiet anymore.
He was cold.
...
Back at their apartment, Ren stood before the mirror.
His reflection showed a boy too composed for his age—silver-white hair streaked faintly with residual lightning, eyes devoid of color yet filled with sharp focus.
He'd mastered every quirk he possessed:
Copycat, Grip, Volt Hair, Soothing Touch, Healing Light, Muscle Fiber, and One For All.
Each one now flowed under perfect control.
And thanks to One For All's balancing core, his body could now handle up to four or five more quirks before risking any side-effects.
But even that had limits.
He'd learned that not all quirks were compatible. Some clashed violently—like Volt Hair and Healing Light, whose opposing energies had been one of the reason that day. Certain combinations consumed far more capacity than others. Even inside the One For All.
He had to plan carefully. Strategically.
For now, he sought only neutral, body-strengthening quirks—the kind that could stack safely within him.
The world thought his quirk was Energy, the cover story his mother registered before the villains attacked her that day. A quirk that generated internal energy he could channel into lightning, grip, or physical reinforcement. It explained away almost everything.
To be continued...
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