The night sky over Musutafu blazed with an impossible light.
Inko Midoriya had been washing dishes when the world turned white. Through her apartment window, she watched a streak of blue-gold fire tear across the heavens, moving faster than any shooting star she'd ever seen. It was beautiful and terrifying in equal measure, and something deep in her chest told her that whatever was falling from the sky would change everything.
She wasn't wrong.
The meteor—or whatever it was—crashed into Dagobah Municipal Beach with a sound like thunder and breaking glass. Inko stood frozen at her sink, soapy water dripping from her hands, her heart hammering. The news would report it tomorrow as a "small meteorite impact" with "no casualties." But Inko couldn't shake the feeling that she needed to see it for herself.
It was foolish. It was dangerous. It was completely unlike her usual anxious, careful self.
But she went anyway.
The beach was a disaster already, filled with years of illegally dumped garbage and refuse. Navigating it in the dark was treacherous, but Inko picked her way through broken appliances and rusted car frames, following the fading glow ahead. Smoke rose in thin wisps from a crater near the waterline, and as she drew closer, her quirk activated unconsciously, small pieces of debris floating toward her trembling hands.
In the center of the crater lay a pod.
It was sleek and crystalline, covered in symbols that hurt to look at too long—not because they were bright, but because they seemed to exist in more dimensions than her eyes could process. The surface was already cracking, spiderwebs of fractures spreading across its surface, and through those cracks, she could see—
"A baby?" Inko whispered, scrambling down into the crater.
The pod shattered completely as she reached it, dissolving into motes of light that scattered on the wind like fireflies. In the center, wrapped in a blanket that seemed woven from starlight itself, was an infant boy. He couldn't have been more than a few months old, with a shock of black hair and the most striking blue eyes Inko had ever seen.
Those eyes found hers, and the baby smiled.
Inko's breath caught. She should call someone—the police, a hero, someone official who would know what to do with a child who fell from the sky. But when she reached down and the baby grabbed her finger with a grip that was surprisingly strong, warm, and utterly trusting, she knew she couldn't do it.
"Hello, little one," she murmured, gathering him into her arms. The strange blanket dissolved at her touch, replaced by an ordinary warmth. "Where did you come from?"
The baby cooed, reaching up to touch her face with chubby fingers. There was something profound in his gaze, something almost knowing, as if he understood more than any infant should. But then he yawned, tiny and precious, and all Inko could think was that he needed her.
She looked around the empty beach, at the crater already filling with seawater, erasing the evidence of his arrival. No one else had come. No one else had seen. In the morning, this would be just another mysterious quirk incident in a world full of them.
"I'll keep you safe," Inko promised, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "I don't know what you are or where you came from, but you're mine now. I'll protect you."
The baby—her baby now—snuggled against her chest and closed his eyes.
Six Months Later
"Kaito, no! Come back here!"
Inko raced through the apartment, her heart in her throat, as her adopted son zoomed past her at impossible speed. At just over a year old, he shouldn't even be walking yet. Instead, Kaito was flying—actually flying—three feet off the ground, giggling wildly as he orbited the living room like a tiny, cheerful satellite.
"This is not funny, young man!" Inko called, though she couldn't help the smile tugging at her lips. Kaito had started showing unusual abilities almost immediately. First, it was his strength—crushing his bottle if she wasn't careful. Then came the floating, which had given her several heart attacks. Now, at fourteen months old, he was zooming around like a miniature rocket.
The doctors had been baffled. His "quirk" had manifested impossibly early, and it seemed to have multiple aspects. She'd registered it officially as "Enhanced Physiology," a vague enough term that covered his various abilities without raising too many questions. The story she told was simple: she'd adopted him from a distant relative who'd passed away. No one questioned it too closely in a world where strange things happened every day.
Kaito looped back around, landing perfectly in front of her with a proud grin. "Mama!"
Inko's heart melted. She scooped him up, holding him close even though he could probably support his own weight just fine. "You're going to be the death of me, sweetheart. What am I going to do with you?"
"Love!" Kaito declared, throwing his arms around her neck.
"Yes," Inko whispered, tears pricking her eyes. "Always."
She thought about the future, about the challenges Kaito would face as he grew. His powers were incredible, unlike anything she'd seen even in professional heroes. But more than that, there was something inherently good in him—a warmth, a brightness that made everyone who met him smile. Even at fourteen months old, he seemed to radiate hope.
The doorbell rang, startling them both. Inko set Kaito down carefully. "Stay here. No flying."
Kaito pouted but nodded, plopping down to play with his blocks. Blocks that, Inko noted with resignation, he'd been stacking into a tower taller than himself by floating them into place.
At the door stood her friend Mitsuki Bakugo, holding the hand of her son Katsuki, who was a few months younger than Kaito. "Inko! Sorry to drop by unannounced. Brat here wanted to play with Kaito."
"Like hell I did!" little Katsuki snapped, though his eyes were already searching the apartment for Kaito.
"Language, Katsuki," Mitsuki sighed. "I swear he gets it from his father."
Inko laughed, stepping aside to let them in. "It's fine. Kaito loves having friends over."
The two boys spotted each other, and Kaito's face lit up. "Katsu!"
"It's Katsuki!" the blonde boy grumbled, but he toddled over anyway. There was something almost magnetic about Kaito, a charisma that drew people in even as toddlers.
As the boys played—with Inko carefully intervening whenever Kaito accidentally demonstrated super-strength—she couldn't shake the feeling that this was just the beginning. Kaito was special, powerfully so, and one day the world would know it.
But for now, he was just her son. Her bright, loving, impossible son who'd fallen from the stars.
And she'd protect him with everything she had.