Chapter Text
Rays of sunlight glimmered down on the little alleyway, streaming through the balconies and steaming grates to hit the earth. Sunlight rarely reached the wretched slums of Suteru, as if even the sun itself cast judgement on its inhabitants and deemed them unworthy of its warmth and comfort. But this morning, the sun was there. And it was beautiful.
Izuku’s fingers danced along the sunbeams, the shadows of his bony fingers blotting it out in little lines on the brick. The sunlight made the soot-soaked wall that made up the foundation of his lean-to warm and dry, and brought much needed heat to his frigid fingers. The light brought speckles of joy to him, in this dingy alleyway he had called home for the past several months.
Home. Could he really even say that? Could he really call this godforsaken place home, when malnourished children picked through the scraps at the bottoms of garbage cans, a breath away from keeling over? When dirt covered every inch, and even if you managed to find running water and bathed every day, you could never get clean? When soot and darkness stretched out for miles, choking people’s hearts black with misery?
No. This place couldn’t truly be home. But what did it matter, when he could never return to his?
He didn’t remember much about it anymore. For the most part, he only had vague flashes of what his childhood looked like, but they were wonderful: the small apartment where he lived with his mother; his bedroom, covered wall to wall with All Might posters; the park and playground where he’d play with the other kids, in a world where quirks didn’t matter yet; the hot food and bubble baths and going to sleep every night with a full belly and the resonance of his mother’s goodnight kiss on his forehead. It was a brief and beautiful life.
From that time, only two people stuck in his mind: his mother and Kacchan, his childhood friend. He had forgotten years ago what Kacchan’s real name was, but it didn’t matter. For the first five years of their lives, the two were inseparable. They went on all kinds of adventures together. They played superheroes in the park until way after dark, and they talked endlessly about what kind of quirks were out there, and what quirks they were hoping to get. It was a beautiful friendship.
Until Kacchan got his quirk.
And he didn’t.
His memories after that turned dark and bitter. Hands, tearing him out of his sobbing mother’s arms. Hands, holding him down while the needle scratched the tattoo onto his neck, forever marking him as Quirkless. Hands, throwing him out of the government vehicle, casting him out onto the streets of Suteru to die, alone and unloved.
Izuku had read a statistic in a magazine once. As few as 1 in 10 Quirkless children survived their first year out in the streets. Izuku was 15 years old.
The alleyway, therefore, was a far better place to sleep than on a bench or under a streetlamp. Safer, too. Less likely to disappear.
A loud honk jolted Izuku out of his thoughts. He peeked timidly out of the alleyway, across the street at the large electronic clock on display. The time read 7:03am. Shit! He was going to be late! He leapt to his feet, grabbed his bag, tucked the strip of corrugated cardboard behind the dumpster, and ducked out of the alleyway and onto the squalid streets of Suteru.
As he was running, he hastily pulled his scarf out of his bag and wrapped it out of his neck to cover his tattoo. It was technically illegal to cover it up, but that didn’t stop most of the others in Suteru from doing so. Everyone here was Quirkless, so it didn’t really matter whether or not their tattoos showed. The only time the tattoos did matter was when Izuku ventured out to the wealthier areas of the city, where police checks were far more common and laws were more strictly enforced. Wouldn’t want the Quirkless to be mixing with normal people, after all.
Izuku weaved this way and that through the streets, dodging the sleazy adults shuffling around and the occasional swipe of a fist. It was pretty uncommon for a Quirkless to make it to adulthood before being picked off by disease, violence, or starvation. But the ones that did were the cruelest of the cruel, the ones who were willing to kill, even as small children, for the paltry bits of food salvaged from who knows where. And even when they made it to adulthood, they weren’t guaranteed survival. Gangs, police, villains- anyone and anything could take you out at any given moment. Not to mention the recent disappearances.
Lately, Quirkless people had been disappearing mysteriously. One minute they were walking down the street or haggling with a vendor, and the next minute they were just… gone. Like they had never existed in the first place. The few police that were stationed in the area never did anything, of course. They were just there to keep riots from breaking out, not waste their time doing actual work. None of the other Quirkless did anything, either. One less person roaming Suteru only meant more food for them. If the missing person had had friends, they would maybe search around for a day or two, but search parties dropped off pretty quickly. It was futile, anyway. None of them had ever been found, dead or alive. Some suspected a government conspiracy to slowly euthanize the Quirkless population. Others took it to be an underground gang, or a new villain group.
Izuku didn’t know what to think, either. He had taken notes of the disappearances, and tried to make a common connection, but there didn’t seem to be any kind of thread linking them. At surface level, it seemed pretty random. Izuku would have like to mull it over more, but he didn’t have time to stop and think now. Up ahead was the train platform, leaving at 7:15 for Tatooin Station. He vaulted over the turnstile and dove through the doors just as they were closing. The rickety train screeched to life and sped down the track. Izuku slumped into a seat near the door. Aside from a couple of high school students and a skeletal man in a baggy trench-coat standing by the door, the train car was empty.
Catching his breath, he pulled out his torn and tattered notebook. He had found it in a recycling bin last month, and although he had had to rip out several pages, it made the perfect vessel for Hero Analysis, Vol. 13. He flipped it to the latest entry. Kamui Woods. He was an up and coming hero, so Izuku had very little information on him so far, but he promised to be an interesting study. He knew the hero liked to patrol through the area of Mustafu where Izuku was headed, and he was determined to catch a glimpse of Kamui Woods at work.
Kamui Woods: the number seven pro hero. His quirk allowed him to create and control wooden extensions of his body. A versatile quirk from the little he had observed, but there seemed to be a strong weakness against fire type quirks. Could he get some sort of fireproof lacquering for his limbs? Was that even possible? Maybe that could be incorporated into his costume- or maybe he could get some gloves that extended with his branches. Permanent or semi permanent lacquering could pose some health risks, after all, especially when he’s off duty, not to mention the fact that he’s kind of a tree, so people might be allergic anyway. But he’s only made of wood, so unless there are people out there allergic to wood he should be fine. What kind of wood is he made of? Based on the colour, maybe cherry? Or oak? What if-
“Are you some kind of schizo or something?”
Izuku looked up. The two students- both boys, both with quirks, and both much bigger than Izuku- were shooting him irritated looks. “N-no,” he stuttered.
“Then quit muttering, you freak.”
“Oh. Sorry,” he said, and buried his nose back into his book, praying that would be the end of it and that they wouldn’t try to pick a fight.
Unfortunately, Izuku didn’t have the power of luck on his side, and the larger of the two boys strode forward. “Watchya got here?” He wrenched the notebook out of his hands.
“Hey, give that back!” Izuku leapt up and tried to take it back, but the boy held it above his head, far out of his reach. “Hero Analysis, huh?” He flipped through the pages with his friend, cackling at each entry. The man in the trench-coat was staring now, a large scowl on his face.
“Look at this one, Roba- ‘All Might is so cool- if I had a quirk, I would be a symbol of peace, just like him!’” The two boys burst into hysterical laughter.
“S-stop, please!” Izuku begged, but they only laughed harder and gave him a shove backwards.
“What would All Might want with a worthless freak like you?” The one boy jeered, and aimed for him again. Izuku was fast, and he dove out of the way, but not fast enough to dodge the giant hand that grew and slapped him forward. He slammed against the train doors, just missing the man in the trench coat. Izuku may have been able to defend himself against other Quirkless in the slums, but he wouldn’t stand a chance against these kids. Izuku spat out some blood and rolled over onto his back, ready to stand and run, but his vision was suddenly blocked by a mass of tan fabric.
“That’s enough, both of you! Leave that boy alone!” The man in the trench-coat put himself between Izuku and the boys, arms spread out in his defense.
“Hey, back off, old man! This is none of your business!” The bigger boy shouted.
“Harassment and assault is everyone’s business. Get out of here, before I report you two to the police.”
The boys only sneered at that. “Why would the cops care? The kid’s Quirkless. They won’t take him seriously!”
The man glowered at them. “They’ll take me seriously. I can promise you that. Last chance, boys.”
Izuku’s attackers looked like they still wanted to fight him, but despite the man’s frail stature he towered over them, a dangerous glint in his eye, and they lowered their fists.
“Whatever,” they sniffed, tossing Izuku’s notebook to the floor and skulking off to the other side of the car.
The man gingerly picked up his notebook and turned to face him, holding it out. “You okay, kid?” At first glance, he was pretty decrepit looking. His eyes and cheeks were hollow and sunken, but his bright blue eyes radiated warmth and kindness. He smiled softly at Izuku.
“Y-yeah. I’ll be fine. Thank you for standing up for me, sir.” Quickly taking stock of his journal, he saw it was a bit scuffed up, but none worse for the wear.
“No problem, kid.” He reached a bony hand down to help Izuku to his feet. “Name’s Toshinori.”
“I’m Izuku,” he replied hesitantly. He couldn’t remember his last name, and even if he did it wouldn’t matter. Quirkless didn’t have last names.
“Could I see your notebook?” The frail-looking man rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “Based on what I could pick up from your muttering, it sounds like you’ve got quite a few interesting ideas about heroes.”
Izuku blushed and hesitated. He held the notebook close to his chest. It was precious to him. He had started the first volume before he had been marked Quirkless. This series was the only thing tying him to his former life. But Toshinori seemed so curious and eager, and so kind to him, that Izuku reluctantly handed over his most prized possession.
Unlike the boys, Toshinori flipped through the pages with care and fascination. Izuku hovered next to him nervously, half expecting him to throw the notebook out the window and laugh at him. But he didn’t- his eyes darted across the pages in interest. When he got to the page about All Might, Toshinori seemed to linger. “An energy-based quirk, you think?”
Izuku jumped. “W-well, yeah. Considering All Might’s muscle mass, it would be easy to assume his quirk is solely strength or muscle-based. But people don’t take into account the fact that his power output far exceeds what his muscles could provide with an ordinary strength-enhancer quirk, not to mention the fact that other heroes of similar size and stature don’t have even a fraction of the strength he does. So my thought is that his quirk is energy based, and his muscles are either a way to enhance its variability, or they developed as a result of his power in order to become a stronger vessel to hold his quirk. There’s also the possibility that his is a transformation quirk, and he only looks that way when he’s using his quirk, which would also explain why no one’s ever seen All Might off duty. It’s a pretty bold idea, I know, but-“
“HA HA HA HA!” Toshinori let out a hearty laugh, and Izuku stopped muttering and lowered his head in shame, folding his arms around himself. Of course the man would mock him. Everyone did. Why had he expected anything different from this stranger? He was such an idiot.
Toshinori’s eyes bugged out, and he waved his hands around like a madman. “Woah, kid, what’s wrong? I didn’t mean that in a bad way, I’m sorry. It was just such a different idea. All the theories about All Might’s true quirk that I’ve heard are always strength based. This is something different! And quite brilliant, I have to say. It just surprised me, that’s all.”
Izuku slowly raised his head.
Toshinori gave him back the book and smiled gently. “Say Izuku, you got anywhere to be today? You look pretty hungry, you wanna stop somewhere and pick up something to eat? My treat.”
Izuku shuffled from foot to foot. He hadn’t met very many trustworthy people in his life. Years of struggling to survive in a world where people like him were despised had made him timid and reclusive. If he went with this stranger, he might not make it back to his little alley. Izuku didn’t want to become one of the missing Quirkless people. But Toshinori seemed so different from the hardened faces he’d grown up around. On the surface, he didn’t look that different from anyone else, but his smile was warm, and his eyes were kind and genuine. Plus, the man was offering him food. Was the gamble worth it?
Izuku nodded. “Okay, sure…”
Toshinori lit up even more. “Great! Follow me, I know a great place to go. I’d love to hear more of your theories.” He leapt off the train, and Izuku followed him. He couldn’t skip out on a free meal. Besides, making a friend in Toshinori could be worth it. At least, he hoped it would be worth it.