Chapter Text
You can’t be a hero without a Quirk.
The words ring incessantly inside his head, fueling the crushing despair that’s been slowly swamping him from head to toe, blotting out everything else until the sight of All Might—his inspiration, his dream, his personal hero—walking away from him is all he can see.
His last hope, the last bit of fire left in him and keeping him holding out for these past ten years—gone. Like dust in the wind, a ship sailing in the night without any lights to guide them.
“Ha…hahaha…” Izuku giggles hysterically, tears pouring down his face as he clings to the iron safety railing fencing in the roof of the building where he’d been left alone. Why did I think this was a good idea? he laments silently. ‘Can I still be a hero without a Quirk?’ What a joke! Truly the ultimate punchline of the weak, destined to wallow forever in mundanity! He’d been a fool to think otherwise, to think that somehow, All Might would give him a different answer than what he’d been told over and over again his whole life.
Kacchan’s right, All Might’s right, everyone else is right; it’s him, useless, good-for-nothing Deku who won’t ever amount to anything special, that is wrong. He laughs again, but his breath catches in his throat and turns into a sob that hiccups out of him.
They’re all right, he’s nothing.
He shakes, bowing over the iron railing like a sinner in front of an altar. He’s Quirkless and friendless and just a downright disappointment to everyone and everything. What is he even doing here? What’s the point, when he doesn’t deserve to live?
If you want a Quirk that badly, I’ll tell you how to get one. Take a swan dive off of the roof, and hope you get a Quirk in your next life!
Kacchan’s mocking voice, warped with sick laughter, echoes in his ears. Ah, that’s right… there’s a way out. Kacchan had kindly told him so. So why not take it? What has he got to lose at this point, when nobody would even care if he was gone or not?
Clutching the bars like a lifeline, Izuku raises his tear-swollen eyes to gaze upon the street below. Slowly, very slowly, he starts toeing off his shoes. Shrugs off his bag and leaves it crumpled on the concrete. As if in a trance, he climbs over the railing and stands right on the very edge of the roof.
What would it be like, to move forward those scant few inches between him and certain death, to feel the wind screaming past him as he hurls himself forward, to feel a split second of pain when he meets the asphalt and then gone the next moment? It would be easy, so easy… and if he’s dead, nobody can ever bother him again, right?
He nearly feels dizzy with the conflicting emotions of relief and fear warring inside of him.
Relief, because he’ll finally be free from this miserable hellhole.
And fear, because he’s so, so scared of dying, but as things are now, he just can’t see any other way out of this cruel world, this life that he’s been enduring for so long. And for what? He has nothing to show for why he’s clung on all these years. Even All Might had walked away from him! He really can’t take it anymore: the endless bullying, the taunts, the jeers, the looks of pity and disgust that people throw at him when they think he isn’t looking.
He’s Quirkless, and it feels like a curse.
But it’s okay, he tells himself. It’ll be over soon.
Yes… soon.
He just needs to let go.
His hands shake around the railing.
…It’s not supposed to end like this.
Izuku closes his eyes, listening to the roaring sounds of cars in the distance, the hustle and bustle of the daily grind. He thinks about All Might walking away, then that horrible moment when his mom apologized to him after his Quirkless diagnosis.
I’m sorry! Izuku, I’m so sorry!
Mom… that’s not it. That’s not what I…
He breathes.
I’m the one who’s sorry.
But don’t worry, Mom, it’ll be over soon.
This useless son won’t burden you anymore.
I’m sorry, and goodbye.
He opens his eyes, and jumps.
He immediately closes them again, not wanting to watch the ground rise up to meet him. The wind whistles in his ears, through his hair and clothes, and for a moment he feels breathlessly weightless. If the wind is the last thing he feels before he dies, he doesn’t mind it so much. It’s nice. He imagines that this is how it would feel like to be able to fly. Wouldn’t that be great if he had a Quirk like that in his next life?
Seconds pass by, the wind is still swooping past him, and shouldn’t Izuku have hit the ground by now?
He frowns inwardly. Something doesn’t feel right… it doesn’t feel like he’s falling anymore, actually. He’s… not floating exactly, but kind of gliding…? The breeze does feel quite pleasant against his feathers—
…
…
…
…wait.
Feathers?!
Izuku rapidly blinks open his eyes, and something translucent slides over his eyeballs. He blinks again, and the weird, thin film slides away.
Somehow, his eyesight is far keener than before. He can pick out a distant plume of smoke even though he’s nowhere near it.
And somehow, he’s not falling, but flying.
Exactly like he’d wished for not even thirty seconds ago.
Is this…
…a Quirk?
But—
The doctor.
The x-rays.
The extra toe-joint.
He’s Quirkless, he can’t have a Quirk.
And yet… there’s really no other possible explanation for this.
In the immortal words of the great millennial generation: “Excuse me, but what the fuck?!”
Izuku’s newly developed animal instinct temporarily takes over to steer his body through the dizzying maze of city buildings while his human mind is overwhelmed by the sheer impossibility of his situation. It guides him to a tall tree in a park that he vaguely recognizes, where he alights on a sturdy branch, claws gripping his chosen perch in a tight hold. After a brief moment of scanning his surroundings for danger, the animal instinct steps back and allows the human mind to return to the fore even though he’s still screaming inside.
(If someone takes one look at this bird and thinks he looks extremely cool and regal sitting up there in that tree, well, nobody has to know that in reality, he is thoroughly freaking out.)
Whatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefuck—
Okay, self, just calm down.
Just.
Calm.
He’s obviously turned into some kind of bird. His best guess would be a raptor, based on his ridiculously good eyesight, smaller streamlined body, wide wingspan, and the black-and-green coloring and striped pattern of his feathers, not to mention the wicked four-toed claws that he’s currently using to cling to the tree branch. Even his beak is curved like a hook instead of tapering to a point. Perfect for ripping things apart.
My god, he’s a bird of prey now. He’s a freakin’ predator.
How did he go from a weak, useless, human punching bag to an animal that’s literally made for killing?!
Izuku really has no clue, but he supposes that this is a good thing, if entirely unexpected.
Which leads to his next question: how the hell does he change back?
…
He pauses at that. Actually, why should he change back? He has no friends, barely any family, nothing to look forward to in his human life. All that awaits him if he goes back is more of the same thing every day. More pain, more suffering… even if he registers as a miraculous Quirk user, that won’t suddenly stop things that have been going on for the past ten years.
If anything, this is a chance for him to start over. Yeah, he can just live like this, like a bird that’s got no business with humans at all. He’ll still have to be careful though. Imagine setting out for a life of freedom, but then being caught and ending up as someone’s pet! The humiliation of that would be even worse than the humiliation of being a useless Deku!
Great, so step A, live as a free bird, but don’t get caught.
Such a funny thought, really. Nobody is going to think he’s actually a human if he goes around doing bird things. Although… since he’s a raptor, does that mean he has to hunt other birds? He has to eat other birds?
(Perhaps it’s the bird brain talking, but the thought of eating other birds doesn’t seem to disgust him as much as he’s expecting.)
Izuku shuffles his wings nervously as he looks back at the plume of smoke in the distance, which appears to be growing larger. It’s most likely a villain attack. On reflex, Izuku reaches for his hero analysis notebook, only to abruptly remember that he left it on the rooftop in his bag where he had attempted to jump to his death. Well, not like he can take notes as a bird anyway.
Izuku shudders when that childish part of him that desperately wants acceptance and acknowledgment rears up again. He ruthlessly squashes it down, shaking his head. No, he can’t. That part of his life is over now. He’s a bird of prey, and birds of prey don’t go flying towards the fire (or any birds, really).
But…
… what if…?
No, he can’t—
But—
—it wouldn’t hurt to just check things out, right? He’s just a bird, nobody’s going to pay attention to him unless he suddenly starts acting funny. He can just observe. Do some recon. Yeah.
With the goal of ‘just observing’ in mind, Izuku takes flight again. He flaps his wings and springs off the branch, marveling at how strong he is now and how fast he can fly. The sky is an open world above him, the taste of fresh air and freedom filling that gaping void in his chest with something akin to joy and wonder. He would laugh if he could, because this, this, is what he’s been looking for all along—the beauty of swooping weightlessly through the air, and living without limits chaining him to the ground.
Here, in the air, nobody can touch him, and Izuku loves it.
It takes almost no time at all for him to reach the site of the smoke. Fire rages around the block, a crowd of curious onlookers gathered in front of a wide alleyway, phones out and recording whichever poor sod got caught by a villain this time.
Izuku circles overhead once, then touches down on a nearby rooftop that is still a safe distance away from the attack. He peers curiously down at the scene. It looks like the one causing this mess is a villain with a grotesque, sludgy body who is currently holding a boy in their grasp, someone who is struggling with all his might but suffocating underneath all that sludge—
—hang on. Is that Kacchan that he’s seeing?
Kacchan, who’s slated to go to Yuuei and become a renowned hero, who has the most powerful Quirk in their school and an equally violent temperament to match, that Bakugou Katsuki—is losing to a villain?
Izuku should feel vindicated. He should be relishing the sight of someone who’s tormented him all these years having the tables turned on him and becoming the tormented one. He should be pleased that Kacchan’s eyes are finally filled with the same fear and hopelessness that Izuku’s known for nearly all his life, as he tries to fight free but the sludge keeps blocking his mouth and he’s literally gasping for air and he can’t get any oxygen in him. He should be happy that Kacchan’s karma is finally catching up to him.
Instead, Izuku feels sick.
He feels angry.
Look at all these people, those three heroes in the crowd just watching him struggle. What are they doing?! Kacchan needs help! Are they just waiting? For Kacchan to pass out or die?!
He can hear some people furiously muttering about why All Might isn’t here, but still, nobody moves. They’re just… standing there.
Waiting.
This isn’t right. This… this isn’t what a hero should be!
Take a swan dive off of the roof, and hope you get a Quirk in your next life!
You can’t be a hero without a Quirk.
Take a swan dive—
You can’t be a—
—off the roof and hope—
—without a Quirk—
—you get a Quirk—
—you can’t—
—in your next life—
—be a hero—
These two sentences repeat themselves in his head, over and over, until they are so mixed-up and disjointed and fragmented into meaningless syllables that they eventually become white noise. The rage and frustration grow inside him, hot like lava, but tempered by the steel forge of his heart.
Izuku’s not a hero. He isn’t going to be a hero either, if it means standing back and sacrificing one to save the many. What can he do anyway, when he’s just a bird?
Sure, he’s weak. He’s powerless. He nearly gave up on life earlier when he had thought all hope was lost. But if there’s one thing that the past ten years has taught him, it’s how to endure. And from that comes the sword that just needed some willpower to break free.
If there’s anything that Izuku’s got in spades right now, it’s determination. The desire to take action and help when everyone else is reluctant about it grows in him like a great starving beast, swallowing up all reason within him until all he can see is Kacchan and the villain. And Kacchan.
Is.
Dying.
He spreads his wings.
(Those who are there that day will have this bizarre sight seared into their memories: a strange peregrine falcon dive-bombing the villain out of nowhere with a deafening screech and using its claws to rip through the muck just enough for the hostage to blast himself free. The villain is so stunned by the unexpected attack that he doesn’t move fast enough to re-capture the boy before All Might finally appears on the scene and destroys him with a single fist of righteous fury. The falcon then spirals up into the air and out of sight, as if it had never been there.
Some people will even chalk it up to a fever dream later on, despite everything being caught live on camera.
But not Bakugou Katsuki, who holds his hands out to catch a single dark-green feather fluttering down amidst the flames and ashes and smoke, not a single part of it singed. For a moment, he just looks at it. He’s frustrated by this turn of events, but mostly at himself for being a weakling that needed to be rescued. If it hadn’t been for that falcon—
—he barely prevents himself from exploding that feather to smithereens. Instead, he shoves it in his pocket and walks away, heedless of the heroes calling for him to come back so they can check his injuries. He doesn’t need help from the nobodies who just watched him struggle the whole time. Some heroes they are.
He ignores the voice in his head telling him that if the falcon had been even a moment later, not even All Might would’ve been able to save him.)