My Little Lab Rat (Overhaul x Y/N)

Intro: Cursed Quirk

Hi! My name is Y/N and I'm 24 years old. I live in a world where most people by the age of 4 develop something called a quirk.

Quirks can be of any kind and character. They can run in families and can be unique to each individual. These quirks can be used for good or evil. They can be a blessing or a curse.

Due to the development of quirks many professions stemmed from the benefits of their usage. Becoming a hero was one such profession. I'd say, the most sought-after one for sure.

Lots of kids look up to heroes and strive to become one themselves, wanting to protect the city and its people. When I was little, I also used to have such a dream. However, I didn't yet know that it was not meant to be.

Around the time I had turned four I remember playing out in our homes little neat garden, the sun of an evening sky glistening through the branches of a nearby tree, when by pure accident I grazed my hand against a broken shred of glass.

A deep slash of red exposed itself on the surface of my skin, the warm liquid flowing out painting my clothes with its crimson tears.

I cried out in pain, my mom rushing over with a worried look on her face. She wrapped my arm with a towel, and we went inside to tend my wound. The cold water glided against my injured arm, washing away the blood it spat, when the sight of my healed, silky skin took us both by total surprise.

As a kid, I felt relieved and happy to see my hand all better. However, everything changed when I caught a glimpse of my mother's face. Her expression had turned pale, and she seemed to be in distress.

Not fully grasping the situation, I innocently hugged her, thinking she was still concerned about my earlier injury. However, she remained silent and distant for the rest of the day.

The next day, she and I went to a strange building. It appeared deserted, and the atmosphere was unsettling. The air felt heavy, a thick blanket of smells enveloping us as we walked - it was almost suffocating. Upon entering, I was faced with an old lady dressed in ghostly white, with a grin that made my skin crawl.

She smiled kindly, greeting my mom, the soft and comforting timber of her voice a far cry from the image my mind had created.

The lady turned out to be a doctor, apparently familiar with us, a distant relative from my mother's side. She conducted some tests, drew my blood, and we were instructed to wait in the hallway for the results.

A while later, she called my mom in. Being a curious kid, I secretly watched them through a little opening in the door, trying to understand what they were saying.

I watched the lady explain something with a serious expression, pointing at the papers in her hand. Suddenly, I saw my mom break out into tears, clutching her chest, her eyes drowning in fear. I didn't quite understand what was going on, and on our way home, I couldn't bring myself to ask.

Days passed, when out of nowhere, my mom pulled me out of kindergarten and quit her job to take care of me full-time. I was confused; I didn't want to leave my friends behind, nor did I want to be stuck at home day after day.

After calming me down, my mom sighed, and with great sadness and sorrow in her voice began explaining why she had done what she did.

She explained that in our family, specifically on her side, there was a quirk that some family members would occasionally get. The quirk itself was harmless; however, due to its nature, it placed a target on the bearer's back.

Among those who knew of its existence, the quirk was called Phoenix blood. Those who possessed Phoenix blood could heal unusually fast and, if killed, even come back to life, just like a Phoenix being reborn from the ashes.