The first thing Illium Price felt was the beeping.
Slow.
Consistent.
Like a metronome counting down the seconds of someone else's life.
He opened his eyes.
White ceiling tiles.
Fluorescent lights.
The smell of disinfectant so strong it made his throat tighten.
Hospital.
His body felt heavy, like his bones had been replaced with wet sand. Every nerve in his arms tingled faintly, like he had slept wrong—except it wasn't the numb kind of tingling.
It was… alive.
Illium blinked.
He tried to sit up.
Pain sparked through his chest, sharp enough to make him gasp. His muscles trembled as if they didn't know how to obey him anymore.
He stared down at his hands.
Bandages wrapped around both wrists. An IV tube ran into his arm. The skin beneath the medical tape looked faintly irritated, almost burned.
He swallowed.
The memory hit him in fragments.
Cold water.
Screaming.
The weightless moment as he fell.
The eels.
The electricity.
The light.
He shut his eyes tightly.
His heart began to race.
I should be dead.
Illium opened his eyes again, slower this time, like he was afraid the world would disappear if he moved too quickly.
His hospital room was quiet.
Too quiet.
No visitors.
No flowers.
No cards.
No balloons.
He almost laughed.
Of course.
Even after nearly dying, he was still… him.
Illium turned his head slightly.
A television hung in the corner of the room, mounted high on the wall. The volume was low, but the screen was on.
A news broadcast.
A woman in a clean blazer spoke with a serious expression, standing in front of the zoo.
Behind her, yellow tape blocked off an entrance. Emergency workers moved in the background. Police officers stood nearby.
The words at the bottom of the screen read:
ZOO INCIDENT: QUIRK AWAKENING DISASTER
Illium's stomach tightened.
The reporter continued.
"This afternoon, a shocking accident occurred at Yokohama Coastal Zoo during a middle school field trip. Multiple students were injured after an unexpected quirk manifestation caused a massive electrical surge, knocking out power to several city blocks."
The footage shifted to shaky phone video.
The exhibit hall.
Darkness.
Screams.
A flash of light.
Illium's fingers twitched beneath his blanket.
The reporter spoke again, voice lowering like she was sharing something forbidden.
"Authorities have confirmed the student responsible was previously believed to be quirkless. This sudden quirk awakening has been labeled by experts as a dangerous anomaly."
Illium's eyes narrowed.
Responsible.
The screen changed to a still photo.
A blurry image of him.
Hair plastered to his face. Hospital staff dragging him out of the building on a stretcher. His eyes half open, glowing faintly gold from residual electricity.
Under the photo:
ILLUM PRICE (13)
DANGEROUS QUIRK ANOMALY
Illium stared at the words.
His throat went dry.
The reporter continued.
"Doctors have not released the full details of the quirk, but early reports suggest an electricity-type emitter ability. Investigators are now questioning how such a dangerous quirk remained undetected for so long."
Illium blinked slowly.
Then, very quietly, he whispered:
"…They're blaming me."
He didn't even sound angry.
Just… confused.
Because of course they were.
The screen cut to an interview clip.
A student from his class stood outside the zoo gates. He wore a worried expression, eyes wide, hands clasped together dramatically like he was auditioning for a hero commercial.
Illium recognized him instantly.
Hoshino.
One of the loudest ones.
The one who always laughed the hardest when someone made a joke at Illium's expense.
The one who called him Geek like it was his legal name.
Hoshino spoke to the camera with a trembling voice.
"It was terrifying… I've never seen anything like it. One second we were just looking at the eels, and the next, Illium just… snapped. He fell in and the whole place exploded. I thought we were all gonna die."
The camera zoomed in on his face.
He looked so sincere.
So innocent.
Illium stared at the screen, his expression blank.
His hands tightened around the hospital blanket.
He pushed me.
He remembered it clearly.
The shove.
The laughter.
The way his foot caught.
The way gravity did the rest.
But on TV, Hoshino looked like a survivor.
A victim.
A hero.
Illium's jaw clenched.
The reporter's voice returned.
"Some parents are calling for stricter monitoring of quirkless children, claiming incidents like this prove latent quirks can be unpredictable and dangerous."
Illium's eyes widened slightly.
His chest tightened again.
The words on the screen changed.
PUBLIC OUTRAGE GROWS
"QUIRKLESS CHILDREN SHOULD BE TESTED"
Illium stared.
He couldn't breathe properly.
Not because of the injuries.
Because of the stupidity.
The cruelty.
Because even now—
Even now that he had nearly died—
They weren't asking why it happened.
They weren't asking who pushed him.
They weren't asking why teachers never noticed anything.
They weren't asking why a quirkless kid ended up in a situation where he could be thrown into a tank like garbage.
They were asking how to control quirkless kids.
Illium let out a sound that was almost a laugh.
Almost.
"…That's funny."
His voice was weak.
But his eyes were sharp.
"Really funny."
The door to the room opened.
Illium stiffened.
A nurse entered carrying a clipboard. She froze slightly when she saw him awake, then quickly smiled like she was relieved.
"Oh! You're awake."
Illium didn't respond.
The nurse stepped closer cautiously, like she wasn't sure if he was dangerous.
Which was… interesting.
She checked the monitors.
"Try not to move too much, okay? You've been unconscious for a while. Your body took a severe shock."
Illium watched her hands.
Watched her fingers.
Watched the way she avoided touching him directly.
Then he noticed it.
A faint hum.
Not from the machine.
From her.
From her heart monitor.
From the fluorescent lights.
From the wiring in the walls.
The sound wasn't audible in a normal sense.
It was something deeper.
Something he felt under his skin.
A vibration in the air.
Illium's eyes narrowed.
I can feel it.
The nurse scribbled something down.
"You're very lucky. Another few seconds in that tank and—"
"Why am I on the news?"
The nurse paused mid-sentence.
She looked up slowly.
"…Excuse me?"
Illium pointed weakly toward the television.
"They're calling me a dangerous quirk anomaly."
The nurse's smile faltered.
Her eyes darted toward the TV.
She cleared her throat.
"Well… the media tends to exaggerate these things. Don't worry about it."
Illium stared at her.
His voice was flat.
"They're interviewing the guy who pushed me."
The nurse blinked.
"…What?"
Illium's eyes didn't leave her face.
"He pushed me."
The nurse's expression froze.
Like she wasn't sure how to respond.
Then she forced a polite laugh, uncomfortable and rehearsed.
"Oh… kids play around sometimes. I'm sure it was an accident."
Illium's lips twitched.
He didn't smile.
He didn't frown either.
He just stared at her like she had spoken in another language.
"An accident."
The nurse adjusted her clipboard.
Her voice became softer.
"Try to rest, okay? The police will probably want to ask you some questions later."
Then she turned and left quickly.
Illium watched the door close.
He remained still for a long time.
The beeping continued.
Steady.
Mocking.
He turned his head back toward the TV.
The reporter was now interviewing a quirk specialist.
A man with glasses and a serious face.
"The child appears to be an extremely rare case. We may be witnessing the emergence of an electricity-based quirk that was dormant until trauma triggered it. These anomalies can be incredibly dangerous…"
Illium's fingers twitched again.
A faint spark jumped between his thumb and index finger.
So small it could've been mistaken for static.
Illium stared at it.
Then another spark formed.
And another.
They danced across his skin like tiny golden insects.
Illium's eyes widened slightly.
"…So it's real."
His heartbeat sped up.
Not from fear.
From something else.
Something he hadn't felt in years.
Excitement.
Curiosity.
Power.
Illium slowly lifted his hand toward the IV tube.
He didn't touch it.
He just held his fingers close.
The electricity inside the machine hummed.
He felt it like a string connecting them.
And with barely any effort—
The monitor screen flickered.
The beeping stuttered.
Then resumed.
Illium blinked.
He tried again.
This time the fluorescent lights above his bed flickered slightly.
His breath caught.
He could control it.
Not just sparks.
Not just shock.
He could control the current itself.
Illium's lips parted.
A laugh escaped him, quiet and breathless.
"…No way."
The laugh turned into a cough, painful enough to make him wince.
He sank back into the pillow, eyes staring at the ceiling.
Electricity crackled faintly across his fingertips.
Then his face went blank again.
The laughter died as quickly as it came.
Because the excitement didn't erase what he had just seen on TV.
It didn't erase the way Hoshino smiled like a victim.
It didn't erase the way adults spoke about him like a disaster.
It didn't erase the fact that no one had come into his room yet and said:
Are you okay?
Or even:
What happened?
They only cared about what he might become.
Illium turned his head.
The window of his hospital room showed a slice of the outside world.
The sky was darkening.
Streetlights began to flicker on.
The city glowed softly, unaware.
Illium watched the lights.
He watched the way the world lit itself up like it deserved to be bright.
His fingers tightened into a fist.
A spark jumped between his knuckles.
His voice was barely above a whisper.
"…I almost died."
No response.
Only the hum of electricity.
Illium's eyes slowly narrowed.
"And they're making me the villain."
His gaze drifted to the television again.
To the headline.
To the words.
DANGEROUS QUIRK ANOMALY.
Illium exhaled slowly.
A strange calm settled over him.
Not peace.
Not acceptance.
Something colder.
Something sharper.
He looked at the lights outside.
Then he looked at his hand.
Electricity danced across his fingertips.
Illium's lips curved slightly.
Not a smile.
Not yet.
But something close.
"If the world wants a monster…"
A faint crackle echoed through the room.
"…then maybe I should give them one."
The fluorescent lights above him flickered violently.
For a moment, the entire hospital room went dark.
Then the power surged back on.
The machines beeped faster, confused.
Illium stared at the ceiling, breathing slowly.
He felt the current in the walls again.
The wires.
The building.
The city.
It was all connected.
And for the first time, Illium understood something clearly.
He wasn't powerless anymore.
Not even close.
Somewhere down the hall, two nurses spoke in hushed voices.
"Is that him?"
"The eel tank kid?"
"I heard he almost killed everyone…"
"That's so scary."
Illium heard none of it.
But he didn't need to.
Because electricity carried more than power.
It carried truth.
And the truth was simple:
The world was afraid of him now.
Illium closed his eyes.
And for the first time in his life…
that fear felt good.
Outside his room, the television broadcast continued.
The reporter's voice echoed through the hospital halls:
"This incident raises new concerns about quirkless children…"
Illium's eyes opened again.
His pupils reflected the glow of the ceiling light.
Golden.
Cold.
Alive.
He stared at the flickering bulb above him.
And whispered the first words that truly belonged to him.
"Remember me."