Patient ID: 05691-02
Name: Miyuki Kurenai
Gender: Female
Age: 11
Quirk: Vampirism (Hemomancer)
Important Information:
The patient exhibits a mutation not present in her known progenitors or ancestral lineage. This mutation appears to be the result of an independent, spontaneous quirk manifestation. Documented effects include enhanced cellular regeneration via rapid acceleration of natural healing processes, heightened sensory perception, and limited external manipulation of her own blood.
Additional abilities are suspected but remain unconfirmed, largely due to the patient's withdrawn and reclusive behaviour following rescue. It is recommended that the patient be placed under regular psychological observation and trauma-informed therapy to address residual effects from her prior circumstances.
Further evaluation has identified several adverse effects associated with her quirk, notably:
Severe photosensitivity - prolonged exposure to ultraviolet radiation (The sun) results in rapid skin damage, with potential progression to third-degree burns.
Bloodlust-driven tendencies and sadistic behavioural markers under specific stress conditions, likely attributed to inherent biological compulsions.
Lastly, a biological dependency on human blood (excluding her own) to maintain physical and mental stability.
The subject has been cleared for regulated blood pack supplementation to suppress inherent thirst and supplement proper nutrients, though distribution will only commence upon placement in a suitable foster residence.
Despite the aggressive nature of her quirk and her prior confinement within the facility, Miyuki Kurenai has demonstrated unexpected emotional stability. Aggressive behaviour is limited to instances of unwarranted physical contact or the removal of personal belongings. Current evaluations classify the subject as emotionally stable and maintaining conscious control of her actions, even in the presence of controlled blood sources.
Recommendations:
Continued observation is advised, particularly as the subject's hormonal development remains incomplete.
Regular psychological evaluation and trauma-informed therapy are recommended to address the residual effects of her previous confinement.
Monitoring should persist for potential secondary quirks, developments, evolutions, or notable shifts in psychological profile as maturation progresses.
Report Compiled By: Dr. Misora Hoshikawa
Senior Quirk Specialist | Tokyo Quirk-Physiology Medical Centre |Hero Public Safety Commission ████████████
Signature: M. Hoshikawa
Date: [insert date here]
--- [11 months till UA entrance exam.]
The alarm blared. That sharp, high-pitched sound that'd make my head throb if I were let it run too long. My hand shot out from under the covers, smacking it silent. The sudden quiet settled in the room.
"Ugh," I groaned, eyes fluttering open. I shoved the covers off, blinking up at the ceiling. As usual, the blinds were shut tight, not a single shred of sunlight bleeding through.
To anyone else, it might've made the room feel suffocating. To me, it was natural. The dark felt like home. Maybe cause the light literally burned my ass alive, but I digress.
I sighed, shifting against the sheets, one leg hanging over the side of the bed. My hair clung to the pillow, pale strands sticking to my face. I sat up, taking a second to actually process being awake before pushing myself to my feet.
The uniform was where I left it, draped over the back of a chair by the window. I slipped it on without a thought. Moving to my desk, I grabbed a notebook, flipping it shut with one hand before crossing the room in a single step.
My bag was slumped against the wall beside the door, waiting. I stuffed the notebook inside and swung the bag over my shoulder, cracking the door open and stepping out into the hallway.
Hah... what a bore
I thought, thinking about the day to come. It was a Monday, and as usual, school was always so boring, everything was just too easy for me to care, and I don't got any friends at school either, not that i'd want any of those quirkest assholes to be friends with. Thankfully, I'm not in 3-A because dealing with bakugo would be a real pain.
I trudged down the hall toward the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. The old wooden floor creaked under my steps, the sound familiar and oddly comforting. The house was quiet, no lights on, no sign of life yet. Not unusual. Gran was probably out back or already off doing her... job she does... still have no clue.
Still, it pays a crap ton, and I'm thankful for that.
I reached the kitchen and pulled the fridge door open. Cold air spilled out, but my eyes went straight to the shelf where the blood packs were usually kept.
Empty.
Not a single one left.
I blinked, staring at the bare shelf like it might magically refill itself if I waited long enough.
I left my mouth open for a good more seconds, my still half-sleeping self trying to piece together the mystery in front of me before.
Right… I remember now. I'd gone through the last of them a few nights ago.
Got a little pissed off about something - can't even remember what now - and ended up tearing through the supply faster than I should've. But still... should've been refilled by now.
There was a note sitting on the table, folded neatly with my name scribbled across the front in Gran's handwriting.
I picked it up and skimmed the message.
'Out for a bit, kid. The shipment's late. No blood 'til next week. Don't burn the house down.'
I groaned, slumping against the fridge door.
"fuuuuck..." I groaned, sighing heavily before pushing myself back up, depressed that my favourite part of the day is gone.
It wasn't like I was gonna drop dead without it. But it will make everyday life extremely more annoying, that irritating, scratchy sensation in the back of my throat, and obviously the urges to rip up the person closest like a bag of chips to drink up, will be much harder to control. But it's manageable.
Not like it was her fault. Shipments got delayed all the time.
I "made" some half-assed breakfast, just a singular piece of toast, and ate it quickly shoving it down my throat. despite having the ability to cook according to gran "some goddamn good fuckin' food"
It took too much effort, so I usually just ate fast food...
.
.
.
I liked Gran. She wasn't like most of the adults I'd met. No tiptoeing around me, no weird stares. She didn't treat me like I was glass or some monster that might snap if you breathed too loudly, or something to be feared. It was… normal. Well, normal for us... she felt like a friend rather than a parent. But still, definitely a parent.
It was fine. She let me be me. No questions asked. Plus, she was loaded. Never said what she actually did for a living, always vague about it, too vague. pretty sure it was something illegal, or at least not entirely above board. But honestly? I didn't care. She was Gran. And that was enough for me.
I finished the last of the bread, rinsed my hands in the sink, grabbed my bag, and headed for the door.
Another day. Another round of pointless classes.
A/N hope you enjoyed. Please comment and tell me if I did anything wrong, I like feedback. (preferably positive) But I can handle constructive criticism.