Chapter Text
Your legs swung as you sat on a cold metal bench which was clearly not manufactured with comfort in mind. Not that you deserved it, you just caused another kid to cry and the mounting guilt ate at you almost unbearably. Your feet swayed, enclosed in pink Crocs spotted with all the dirt and mud an almost four year old child accumulates over an afternoon spent outside. There were purple and blue spots on your legs, more than you could count at the moment. Partially because your hands were restrained. Dried cat scratches stung your face. You felt that you deserved a “weird award”, inwardly swearing you had somehow managed to break a record for the first and stupidest arrest made after Quirk manifestation. You may be a bit wistful at times, but even you knew the police did not usually arrest you upon being granted a Quirk. You just wanted to play.
It upset you greatly (if the dried tears on your tanned dry cheeks were not enough of a clear sign) to know that your family would find you like this, at a police station the day before your fourth birthday. You must have greatly stressed your already exhausted parents. You wondered if you’d even get a cake after today. Doubt crept into you. You had yet to process that you just got a Quirk, more so upset at the events which occurred this Saturday afternoon.
To preface, your family wasn’t by any means wealthy, they worked extremely hard to make sure you were provided for. However, you never had the nicest clothes or had been to any of the fancy “vacation” places (whatever that meant) your peers at preschool had told you about in the preschool/daycare facility you attended. Not that any of that material stuff mattered, you were an easy going kid. On top of being a bit behind in various ways, not having access to the recent gadgets and trends made you a bit sheltered. You were often left in the care of your sister as your parents worked, even if you would both do your own things.
It was not a surprise that your Quirk manifested when you were basically alone and had not a clue of what was happening. You were a pretty clueless kid, all things considered.
If that wasn’t enough, you were a rather weak child, emotionally. You did not make friends easily as badly as you yearned for someone to play with. You loved playing with dolls and toys, but the fun was limited when no one was there to reply to your voice. At preschool, the students with younger siblings took a liking to you, meaning you at least were looked at with the pity of an older sibling taking care of a younger one.
That, and the Quirk factor.
At the age of four, most children who are meant to develop Quirks have already manifested their Quirks. It’s an unchangeable fact supported by all the science of the modern age. Unarguable, even children understood this rule didn’t bend for anyone.
You were born in the remaining winter of the early months, first to turn four among your friends at preschool. The last one to not have developed a Quirk yet. Everyone would look at you upon entry every morning demanding to know if you had developed a Quirk overnight.
“Wow, [Name], I bet you’ll get it tomorrow!”
“You look taller, [Name], did your Quirk happen?”
“[Name], you’re uglier today than yesterday. I bet you got a troll Quirk!”
Ouch, the last one made you sob quietly in the back of the classroom for a while before the preschool teacher eventually scolded you for being a baby. She assumed you were crying over some insignificance. You didn’t find the voice to tell her the truth of the situation. That had happened yesterday, Friday, an especially mean boy had decided to aim his “jokes” at you that day as the days leading up to your birthday had been coming close to zero.
You felt extremely nervous and humiliated for yourself every morning on the way to daycare and every night before falling asleep. How would you tell your friends there was no Quirk coming? Your parents didn’t have Quirks and it was beginning to get pitiful looking at how few days were left before your fourth birthday. You would be the only one in the class without a Quirk.
It was your doctor who had planted a bad seed in your child mind, one that did not do anything but amplify your anxieties. Looking at you late into your third year, he said he felt doubtful you would ever manifest a Quirk.
Your doctor was a charismatic young man, claiming to have recently graduated at the top of his class. He sweet talked the community into thinking very highly of his knowledge of Quirk manifestations, claiming it as his area of concentration. Your sister attempted to advocate on your behalf upon seeing your fallen face, but unfortunately he argued his point by pointing out your growth. You were taller than other girls your age and clearly growing quickly. He claimed a Quirk would have manifested early in you, and that he met children every day he knew would develop Quirks.
He said you lacked a certain factor. What a prick.
You wept the entire way home, not that you knew what any of those words meant but the look crestfallen on your mothers face was enough to communicate the gravity of the situation.
You hated Quirks and that you would be the only one in your class to not get theirs, you would spend the rest of the year watching everyone’s Quirks while you never got one. You were very jealous, as much as an almost four year old can be.
Your sister attempted to get your hopes up, as she developed a rather nice Manifestation Quirk that worked in the form of her making small changes happen in dire circumstances. Of course, it was rather inconvenient that it was only possible in dire conditions. She said that after some research, she found one of your ancestors on your mothers side had a similar Quirk called "Blessing Gifts". Your sister named hers "Little Miracles". You felt it was deserving as your sister was quite literally the voice of righteousness, and although you felt envy of her having a Quirk you never felt negatively towards her as a person. How could you? You were not a villain or anything.
As much as you resented your upcoming fourth birthday and wished Quirks didn’t exist at all so you could instead focus on the chocolate cake you were promised, a small part of you held out hope.
Perhaps your sister's Quirk would grant you the miracle of receiving one yourself.
That would for sure make her a hero like All Might, or others you had heard of from your classmates and seen on the television. Maybe you could be her sidekick.
That must be how it works, you decided, ignoring how something felt wrong despite this assurance.
On the Friday of this week, your peers wished you a happy birthday as it fell on a Sunday. You would have to show them your Quirk as soon as you got to school Monday, they declared. You hadn’t the nerve to tell them there would be no Quirk, so you faced the clenching feeling in your stomach as your mother guided you out of the daycare for the day. You had omitted something that would end up tearing you up until their disappointment freed you of it, and then no one would want to be your friend because you were a Quirkless liar. And ugly, apparently.
It was embarrassing enough that you were reprimanded earlier for crying, but this added pressure made you feel too sick to eat breakfast the following day. Another day without a Quirk, you were now down to one day.
You had little to do on Saturday afternoon, the small birthday party your family planned for you (which was rather a little gathering of family and family friends than a party) was arranged for Sunday, so all there was to do was wait and waste the last moments you had that were still laced in hope. Your last few moments where you were justifiably Quirkless, not unfortunately Quirkless.
Again, you had nothing to do. Your sister was in another room doing something a young teenager actually wanted to be doing rather than watching child cartoons with you. She trusted you wouldn’t get into trouble. You were pretty quiet.
But you were so very lonely (and miserable over the whole Quirk situation) and you wanted to play.
There was something that would play with you, though it was outside.
Kicking on the crusty, pink, off brand Crocs you had thoroughly abused, your feet led you to the back porch your family had where you moved a loose fence board to your neighbors porch.
There, laying in a bored heap in the sun, was the white and tan terrier your neighbors adored.
Spot loved playing (and barking), especially with you because you barked back. The neighbors didn’t really mind as Spot was going to bark regardless of your presence so you fell into the routine of “visiting” Spot regularly.
It usually didn’t last long before one of your family members dragged you home for imposing on the neighbors and gave you a scolding that prevented you from going back for a few days.
They advised you not to go to the neighbors due to the smell of “skunks” (as they told you), threatening you with the fear of being sprayed. You went anyways since you never actually saw a skunk, only smelled them (lol).
Anyways, today you were visiting Spot! Playing with him, even if it was for a few moments, always cheered you up.
You pushed your chubby body through the loose board and Spot ran at you, immediately barking a greeting and likely a million other things.
You barked back, thinking hard in your mind to communicate in dog language.
'Spot! I missed you, boy! Did you know tomorrow I’m gonna be four?' You thought.
What you actually said sounded more like…
“BARK! BARK! BARK! WOOOF WOOF! RUFF RUFF RUFF!!”
A child playing dog.
You and Spot continued the exchange a bit more before you sat and he ran around you in circles.
You giggled, he was adorable and what kid doesn’t love a sweet dog?
You began to wish you were a dog, then you wouldn’t have to go back to school without a stupid Quirk. Dogs have it so easy!
You thought hard before your declaration.
'Spot! If I was a dog, I’d want to be just like you!' You inwardly decided.
To everyone else it sounded like…
“WOOF! WOOF! RUFF RUFFF RUFF!! BARK BARK! HEHEHE-”
Only Spot had stopped running and was now growling at you. As the giggles died on your tongue, you suddenly felt more sick than yesterday when you lied to the whole class and that boy basically called you a troll.
You fell to your hands and began to whine, you attempted to call your sister for help, but you couldn’t speak.
You felt the feeling of squeezing through the loose fence board but all over your body, and tighter. You thought that this feeling is what it must feel like to break a bone. The compression was too intense, a piano must have fallen from the sky directly on you like on TV. The pain engulfed your entire body.
It was like your bones were molding into some other shape, the unbearable pain causing you to fall over as you were having a hard time even crying out.
All your limbs were being ringed tightly, like when Mother rings water out of washcloths.
“What did you do to [Name]?! You smell like [Name]! I’ll attack you, no joke!” A gruff voice threatened as you felt rather low on the ground. Maybe you were asleep, because it really seems like Spot is speaking to you directly right now. You decided this must be some hellish nightmare.
You closed your eyes but nothing changed, you could very clearly hear Spot's apparent voice yelling threats at you. The smell of the cement and dirt beneath you was heightened, along with that of Spot and your own. Some dream, huh…
You opened your eyes and looked around, since it was beginning to feel like you were actually awake.
To your horror, you were missing your hands but in their place you had two small white paws.
You jumped up and yelped.
"Where are my hands!" You shrieked, terrified by the dog nails looking back at you rather than the pink sparkly nail polish your sister had applied the previous night to make you feel special.
"[Name]!? Is that you!? How are you like me now?" Spot asked, now looking less aggressive, with a surprised tone and dropping the growling.
"Spot! Help me! I’m a dog!" You practically sobbed, though it sounded more like a distraught…
“BARK BARK BARK”
to anyone else.
"[Name!] This is going to be so fun! We can play all the time now!" Spot said joyfully, jumping up and down.
Since you were a child and easily swayed, your crying immediately ceased and you also began to excitedly celebrate with Spot.
Which lasted for maybe a minute before the neighbor opened the door in shock. The scent of “skunk” wafted out.
“What the hell happened!? Oh hell NAH! I’m not going to get taken! This has alien cloning written all over it! Spot! Spot, real one! Spot, here boy!”
The neighbor lady hurriedly whispered in an aggressive tone. She then frantically motioned at both dogs, not distinguishing which was the real Spot. She likely would have taken either as Spot.
You hardly noticed her, now thinking of playing with Spot forever rather than going back to daycare. Spot however, was instinctively trained to follow the “here, boy” command.
“Oh! Be right back, [Name]!” Spot barked before running away into the neighbors arms. She was saying something about alien cloning but you were too excited to listen. Unfortunately, for a moment, the door slammed shut leaving you all by yourself in Spot's yard.
You felt your mood instantly become dampened by this, but you liked the neighbor lady so you waited.
She came back out and shooed you out of her yard with a broom, which your child (and now dog influenced) mind thought was a game so you chased her. Something must have scared her because she began to run.
“Alien dog clone! They’re gonna turn me! NOOOOO!!!”
She was repeatedly screaming something, none of which you understood. The wind was slapping on your dog ears too loudly, you would have to get used to that.
You continued to chase her, barking along the way at this insanely fun game.
That is, fun until you slowed down to bark and chase a squirrel.
When you eventually lost the squirrel, you realized you were in a foreign neighborhood. You barely knew the layout of your own very well, so it felt as though the world fell apart at that moment.
You're usually always holding a trusted adults hand.
You remember a child’s cartoon episode where the protagonist got lost and his mothers words rang through his head. But what were they?
Stay put and wait.
So you waited, and waited, and waited.
The world continued to turn around you, the sky darkening rather quickly. You were thinking of how you turned into a dog and if maybe you could turn back, but you didn’t exactly want to even try…
The world was scary as a dog, a lost one at that, but you felt more dread at the thought of being a Quirkless girl. A Quirkless liar.
You missed your family, though, and began to feel hungry. The consequences of skipping breakfast.
Unbeknownst to you, the dog instincts had already gotten you to your, or rather Spot’s, feet and you were sniffing around for something to eat. Gone were the heeds of the cartoons.
You noticed a large grey cat perched on a window in an apartment building. The complex didn’t look friendly, neither did the cat, but you figured if you could talk to Spot you might be able to talk to the cat. The area smelled like cigarettes and tuna fish.
The cat arched itself and hissed as you trotted up to it.
“Go the hell away! I’ll scratch your nose off, ugly ass dog!” It hissed hatefully. Its face contorted in a scornful manner, yellow eyes in harsh, angry slits.
“Hi! I’m [Name]. Can I have something to eat?” You asked like an idiot.
“Did I not tell you to go away? Were you born yesterday?” It hissed, though now looking confused on top of furious. Maybe confused by how clueless you were.
You began to bark out another reply, when you noticed a cat door on the front door of the complex. Your dog mind decided to go for it and you lunged. Maybe there would be food inside considering how plump the cat looks.
“This motherfucker is asking for it!” The cat screeched as it leapt after you.
As you entered the dark and murky apartment, you noticed a sleeping boy on a recliner, his dark hair hiding his eyes from the television screen still playing.
If the sound of the barking and hissing wasn’t enough to wake him, your clumsy terrier body getting slammed by the large and heavy cat into a shoe rack immediately got the now panicked boy to his feet.
You felt the shoes smack into your fairly small dog body, along with several swipes from the cat.
“Away! Get away from my food- uh- I mean my territory! Ugly dog! Leave!” The cat howled, repeatedly causing a whimper with each swipe to your dog face.
The boy, now clearly freaking out, eventually got the cat off of you, with much resistance and even a few swipes on his arms. The cat seemed to be arguing with him too considering how loud the meowing was getting.
The cat seemed to be stronger than the small boy somehow, perhaps its weight accelerated its force. The two still were fighting, the cat clearly wanted to smack you some more.
You began to whimper, being a dog was turning out to be horrible. You were in immense pain and were hungry, along with missing your family and being terrified of your surroundings. You made a mess in some strangers house and got him all scratched up, too.
You wished you were a girl again, that everything would go back to normal. Slamming your eyes tightly shut, you prayed you would return to your normal self.
“That’s enough out of you, Whiskers! You made a mess when I could have gotten the intruder out with-”, the words seem to die on the boy's tongue. There was a sudden silence contrasting the howling of the previously furious cat.
You heard something heavy fall to the ground and scamper out of the room, then felt a poke on your side.
Upon opening your eyes, the boy now faced you at eye level, shock evident on his face. He was crouched in front of you for a moment to make sure you were real.
“W-weren’t you just a dog?!” He gaped, backing up and looking around for something.
You looked down at yourself, relief filling you as you registered you were human again after confirming your hands were not paws and yes, the pink nail polish was still intact.
Your attempt at a reply was unjustified by a bark escaping your mouth. The boy looked at you in utter confusion, before beginning to shriek for his mother.
You continued to helplessly bark, getting up and tripping over the countless shoes still on you. The scratches on your face burning you, the sensation too overwhelming to bear. Tears were brimming on your eyes as a woman with a similar colored head of hair entered the room. She whispered something into his ear and he said something you couldn’t really hear. You attempted again to communicate with him, more so for your own sanity, but only another bark came out. That was all you remembered before being engulfed in total darkness. A calm stillness washing away your emotions.
When you “woke up” you were in Quirk suppressing handcuffs at the police station. The police explained that you had gotten some type of Quirk that allowed you to transform into a dog. While you had once again stopped listening and were now going through the very real scenario of actually living with a cool Quirk, a stern look snapped you out of your thoughts.
A round police officer was standing at the door frame of the small holding cell you were sitting in. Through the slightly ajar door you could see a conversation between the receptionist and the mother of the child whose house you broke into. The kid was there too, standing at his mothers side. He looked up at you for a moment before you heard his mother begin (or resume) to speak.
“I don’t want her to feel bad, no need to berate her over the loss of control of her Quirk. She’s young and I understand that kids have a hard time with their Quirks at first.” The woman said, smiling at her little boy.
The little boy seemed a bit bashful at the comment and hid his face behind her leg.
The rotund police officer who was previously glaring at you turned to them and chuckled. “Well, ma’am, your kids Quirk is wild. Better keep an eye on him before he ends up here for a reason other than heroism, haha!” The cop said, ending with a loud guffaw.
The receptionist shook her head. The dark haired boy began to cry, his mother picked him up and by his gesture you could tell he was crying into her neck.
“Sir, that was rude! My son-” she began but was soon cut short.
“Lady, with a Quirk like that… I mean enjoy him while he’s little and nice.” The cop continued to mock. He seemed to be quite the comedian.
The woman seemed to hold her tongue but spared you a glance before storming out.
The receptionist sighed and said nothing.
That interaction made you feel sick for the boy, but before you could dwell, your reality hit.
The police had already been alerted by your parents that you were missing, and with your description had called your parents to confirm you were in custody. An ass whooping loomed over your head, you had been arrested before your fourth birthday.
The mess of events leading up to it spilled from your mouth sloppily, the receptionist jotted down your story and held back a smile. It was a bit ridiculous, to an adult. To a child, it was extremely overwhelming.
This did not mean your breaking and entering was excused, and the rather large cop reprimanded you heavily. He must have felt like he really did something because he waddled out looking quite full of himself.
A few moments later you were told your parents would be on their way to pick you up. You were not sure whether or not to dread telling your parents or let excitement take over and celebrate your new power!