Chapter Text
Midoriya Inko had always wanted the best for her son—warm dinners, soft lullabies, and one day, a life where he could chase his dreams, whatever they may be. When the doctor pronounced him quirkless, she had cried, apologizing to him over and over. But she had not given up. Unlike so many in their world who would let a child suffer under the weight of societal rejection, she had reached out beyond the bounds of their reality.
She called upon her cousin in another dimension.
That cousin was Fried Justine, a powerful mage of Fairy Tail.
At the time, Izuku was still young enough that Bakugo had not yet turned completely against him. Though their friendship had become strained by the widening gap in their abilities, there were still moments of camaraderie. But society's expectations loomed over them, and Izuku could already feel the future shifting. He didn’t want to be left behind, nor did he want to be the weak link in Kacchan’s shadow.
His mother had seen it too—the way people looked at him, the way the other parents whispered when they thought she couldn’t hear. She wouldn’t let her son’s dream be crushed, and so That how she ended up here.
The room was quiet, save for the soft hum of the stabilization ring encircling the portal pad. The air shimmered with residual magic, unnatural against the clean lines and sterile lighting of the Hero Public Safety Commission facility.
Inko Midoriya sat stiffly in the chair, clutching her hands in her lap.
Across from her stood a woman in a fitted charcoal-gray suit, her HPSC badge clipped with clinical precision to her collar. Slim glasses framed sharp eyes, and her hair was pulled into a tight twist—efficient, composed. Her ID read: Liaison Officer Delta.
“He’ll be monitored, of course,” Delta said, voice calm but not unkind. “Magical relay points along the dimensional tether. Communications will be delayed, but stable.”
Inko nodded slowly. “I understand that. I just…” Her voice caught. “I’m sending my son to another world. I need to know this isn’t just an experiment to you.”
Delta studied her for a moment, then sat down opposite her, folding her hands neatly.
“It isn’t,” she said. “We’re not looking to use him, Mrs. Midoriya. But we are investing in him. In his potential.”
Inko frowned. “And what does that mean?”
Delta didn’t hesitate. “It means if he survives that world—and if he returns stronger, with abilities the system can work with—he’ll be fast-tracked into hero certification. Quirk registry, provisional license, school placement. All of it. We’ll smooth the path if he brings something back worth integrating.”
Inko’s throat tightened.
“So it’s conditional.”
Delta inclined her head. “It’s realistic. Our world has no place for the powerless. You knew that before you ever contacted us.”
Silence settled like dust between them.
Then Delta continued, softer this time. “You’re not giving him up, Mrs. Midoriya. You’re giving him a chance.”
Inko looked toward the portal pad, where her son would soon step through to a world of magic, monsters, and unknowns.
She exhaled, voice barely above a whisper. “Just make sure he has something to come back to.”
Delta gave a single nod. “We will.”
A quiet chime sounded. The portal stabilized.
So, The answer came in the form of a portal. A shimmering distortion of space, connecting their world to another. A world where strength wasn’t defined by quirks, but by will and magic.
The decision was not made lightly. Discussions were held in secrecy, with Inko pleading her case to the Hero Commission. Surprisingly, they did not deny her. Instead, they granted her permission under the condition that Izuku maintain a connection to his homeworld—both for educational purposes and for potential diplomatic interest should interdimensional travel ever be explored further. As far as official records were concerned, Izuku Midoriya had been homeschooled for the duration of his absence.
And so, with a tearful hug and a promise to return, Izuku swallowed back his fear of the unknown, trying to focused on his hope for someting good, and stepped through the portal and into a world unlike anything he had ever known.
The moment Izuku emerged in the bustling city of Magnolia, he knew he was somewhere extraordinary. Gone were the towering skyscrapers and neon-lit streets of Japan. Instead, grand stone buildings with intricate carvings lined the streets, magic-infused lamplights casting a warm glow over the cobblestone roads. People moved with a different kind of energy—some walked casually, others zipped through the air with flight magic, and shopkeepers displayed enchanted wares with a confidence that spoke of a culture built upon the extraordinary.
But what truly captured his attention was the massive, castle-like structure before him, its banner proudly displaying a blue insignia of a winged creature.
Fairy Tail.
The transition wasn’t easy at first. Izuku, still a child, found himself surrounded by people who wielded magic effortlessly. Fire, lightning, wind, and even transformations—things beyond his wildest dreams were commonplace. And he had nothing. No quirk, no magic, just the same burning determination that had carried him through countless obstacles before.
It was Fried who took him in, explaining to the guild his connection to Inko and how he had always wanted to support his cousin’s family in any way he could. The guild, chaotic as always, welcomed Izuku with open arms.
Makarov, seeing the fire in the boy’s eyes, made an exception to allow him into Fairy Tail despite his lack of magic. “You’ve got a good heart, Shrimp,” the old guild master had said, ruffling Izuku’s unruly green hair. “Magic isn’t just about strength. It’s about will. And yours is stronger than most.”
Under the guidance of some of the guild’s strongest mages, Izuku trained relentlessly. He spent days studying different types of magic, experimenting with his own innate energy, and enduring rigorous physical conditioning. He wasn’t content with just being a spectator. He wanted to fight alongside his new family.
His magic awakened in an unexpected way. One evening, while watching Fried set up a series of rune-based traps, Izuku found himself utterly captivated by the intricacy of the symbols. He traced them into his notebook, studying their structure. And then, when he placed his palm over the page, something clicked.
A surge of energy flowed through him, and suddenly, the rune activated under his fingertips.
It wasn’t a perfect copy—his magic was unstable, flickering like a dying ember. But it was real. It was his.
-- Izuku’s Copy Magic – Archive Copy --
Archive Copy is a unique form of magic Izuku developed during his time in Fiore. It allows him to analyze, record, and replicate the magical essence of abilities he’s observed—by converting them into personalized runes encoded with their function. This ability is deeply rooted in his own magical core, enhanced by years of training under Fairy Tail’s strongest mages.
* Runeslots – Daily Permanent Copies
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Izuku can select up to three abilities per day to engrave into what he calls Runeslots—magical runes that appear like glowing tattoos across his chest.
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These Runeslots remain stable for 24 hours and grant him full access to the copied ability, as long as the rune remains active.
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Once chosen, Runeslots cannot be changed until the next cycle.
Current examples include:
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Fried’s Rune Magic – Enables the use of command glyphs, barriers, and area traps.
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Gildarts’ Crush Magic – Grants destructive, high-impact kinetic energy manipulation.
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Happy’s Aera – Produces wings for flight and enhanced agility.
* draftRunes – Temporary Copies
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In addition to his Runeslots, Izuku stores other observed abilities within a non-physical magical grimoire—a floating, ethereal notebook that exists as part of his soul.
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To use a temporary copy, he materializes a draftRune—a glowing, floating page of script that hovers in front of his palm before activating.
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A draftRune allows him to access an ability for up to ten minutes before fading.
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Only one draftRune can be active at a time. Activating a new one immediately cancels the previous.
The notebook cannot be damaged, destroyed, or stolen—it is not a physical object, and only manifests when Izuku wills it to.
⚠️ Limitations
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The strength and stability of any copy—Rune or draft—depend on Izuku’s understanding of the original ability. If he lacks theoretical or practical knowledge, the result will be weak or unstable.
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Complex abilities (e.g., Dragon Slayer magic, transformation-based quirks) can only be partially copied—typically just one feature.
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Storage- or item-based powers (such as Requip or Archive) are incompatible; any summoned items vanish once the ability deactivates.
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DraftRunes cannot be stacked—Izuku can only use one active ability from tis category at a time. It dosn't apply to Runslot
* Quirk Compatibility (Theoretical)
While Archive Copy was developed through magic, it is believed to be capable of replicating quirks as well—treating them like condensed magical blueprints when exposed directly. Though untested, preliminary theory suggests that:
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Runeslots could potentially store quirks the same way they store magical abilities.
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draftRunes might briefly emulate a quirk after direct exposure.
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However, due to the biological nature of quirks, this application may be more taxing on Izuku’s body or require specific calibration.
The soul-bound grimoire is the permanent repository of everything Izuku has successfully copied. Abilities sitting in the grimoire are neither draftRunes nor Runeslots — they're inert, available, ready to be deployed into either format when he chooses.
Izuku’s time in Fairy Tail shaped him into something greater than a quirkless boy. He became a fighter, a strategist, and most importantly, a hero in his own right. He fought in guild missions, took part in dangerous battles, and even developed close bonds with his guildmates.
Natsu treated him like a little brother, constantly challenging him to push his limits. Erza taught him discipline and swordplay, and Lucy introduced him to the finer details of magic theory. Wendy, being close in age, became one of his closest friends, often helping him refine his healing techniques when he copied her magic.
Years passed in what felt like the blink of an eye. He grew stronger, faster, more confident. But as much as he loved Fairy Tail, a part of him always remained tethered to his homeworld. His connection to Japan never wavered—he continued studying through magical means, communicating with his mother and keeping tabs on the hero society he had once dreamed of joining.
And eventually, the time came for him to return.
Makarov, understanding the importance of this journey, sent him off with a smile and a warning: “Never forget who you are Shrimp, no matter which world you stand in.”
Fried hugged him tightly before he left. “No matter what happens, you’ll always be family. And you’ll always be a Fairy.”
With that, Izuku Midoriya stepped through the portal once more, ready to face the world of heroes—not as a quirkless child, but as a mage from Fairy Tail.
U.A. awaited.