Chapter Text
Izuku Midoriya learned at the tender age of four that not all people were created equal. With tears in his eyes, he was told that he was quirkless - and it was like a stab to the heart. His mom, burdened with the thought that her son would never be able to be like his heroes, could only say ‘I’m sorry.’ Somehow, that stung him worse. For a while, he thought maybe a quirkless person could be a hero - but the knowledge that not even his mom believed he could weighed on his heart.
His childhood friend - though he could hardly call him that now - only drove that thought further in. Bakugou Katsuki was special. He was strong. He was always the leader. Everyone always praised him wherever he went, and Izuku’s young mind could only figure that it was because of his powerful quirk. He proudly declared that he was going to surpass All Might one day, and that Izuku would be better off left in the dust, a useless, quirkless Deku.
Quirkless people can’t be heroes.
And so it came to pass that Izuku Midoriya learned that being quirkless was the same as being a second-class citizen. Nobody batted an eyelash when it came to his existence. If they did, they coddled him - treated him like a baby, completely helpless.
Izuku Midoriya was far from helpless.
By age 5, his parents had gotten divorced. He wasn’t sure why - I’ll tell you when you’re older, sweetie, his mom had said - but he felt like it was his fault. Maybe his dad didn’t want anything to do with a quirkless child? He wasn’t sure, but all he knew was that his mom didn’t take it well. She became withdrawn, quiet, nervous, and distant, even from her own son.
It was hard on him at first, when he’d look at her with tears in his eyes and ask her why she didn’t talk to him, but he grew to not ask any more. She never did, so why bother? He started his first journal then, just barely learning to write, talking about anything a child might. What happened at school, how good his writing was becoming, and what cool heroes were on TV. If he couldn’t be one, well, he could at least look up to them.
One whole journal was filled with nothing but facts about All Might, crude, child-like drawings adorning every other page. It was one of his most prized possessions, and when he got older, it would grow into a Hero Analysis study habit. He just couldn’t help himself.
By age 6 he’d learned to cook for himself. He burned his hands a couple of times, but it wasn’t anything he hadn’t felt before. His mother cooked once a week, if that, but Izuku didn’t mind. If it was the only way he could do something useful, he’d take it. His mother ate in her room and barely spoke. He hoped she was okay… he honestly couldn’t tell any more.
It was like that a lot.
By age 7, when Izuku received his first long-lasting scar from Bakugou’s quirk, he thinks to himself if only I wasn’t quirkless. But the thought leaves as quickly as it comes, because the last thing he wants to be is helpless, so he endures it. He endures every remark and burn and lashing he receives, and his mom doesn’t say a word except to drive him to the doctor’s when it was something he can’t take care of at home. It wasn’t the only scar he received that year.
By age 8, Bakugou was a terror for him, always chasing him after school with his quirk activated. Bakugou wasn’t the only one, either - other kids also seemed to beat him down at the blond’s insistence. Izuku, at this time, began to wonder if it was what he deserved.
Is this what I get for being Quirkless?
Nobody bothered to stop it. The teachers all knew - they’d seen the burn marks and bandages and red, blistered skin, yet nobody said a word. Izuku assumed it was like this for every quirkless person. It was normal, because he wasn’t normal. He was what everybody said he was - a quirkless, useless, freak of nature Deku.
This was just what he deserved, right?
By age 10, Izuku felt like he had more scars than skin. He couldn’t stand looking at himself in the mirror. He knew what he was, what his place in the world was. It made him sick to think about his life outside of heroes, so every chance he got he threw himself into hero worship and analysis. He’d had so many notebooks filled, no longer the ramblings of a child but of somebody who’d learned to analyze a survival situation.
He’d had plenty of survival situations already.
At age 11, he discovers his new favorite hero: Eraserhead. He was hard to find any information on, being an underground hero, but he’s fascinated by a man that essentially fights quirkless, one-on-one on an even playing field with his opponent. It instills in Izuku a hope he hadn’t felt since he was a child, and he quickly consumes any and all media he can find related to Eraserhead. He has an entire book about him, now, too, right next to the one of All Might he made as a child. It’s his for sure most prized possession.
Izuku finds himself doodling Eraserhead’s goggles in class one day, and Bakugou has a field day with him. His words sting more than he thought they would.
“He can only fight evenly with his own quirk, you idiot! Stupid Deku! You’re below anybody with a quirk, you can’t fight anybody!”
Izuku silently cries himself to sleep for the first time in a long time, clutching his notebook of Eraserhead facts to his chest. He knew it, of course, but it was hard to find hope in anything as he got older and older. Nothing seemed worth it, and he wondered if even Eraserhead would look down on him like everybody else did. It hurt to think about, and his chest felt tight as his hopes were crushed again, and again, and again.
By age 14, Izuku Midoriya only felt empty. He understood why his mother was so quiet. It hurt too much to be anything else.
When All Might - one of his personal heroes - shows up in front of him, saves his life from a villain, all he can manage to ask is a single question: “Can somebody who’s quirkless be a hero?” All Might’s answer rips his heart out. If he felt empty before, it was nothing compared to the searing pain he felt down to his core. He shouldn’t have expected anything else.
It’s good to have a dream, but you need to consider what’s realistic. I don’t think you can be a hero today without a quirk.
Izuku wished he’d never asked.
Another year goes by, Izuku feeling just as empty. The day that Bakugou gets his acceptance letter to UA, he comes over just to brag and shove it in his face. To tell him just how useless he is, shitty Deku. Izuku doesn’t need Bakugou to tell him what he already knows. He’s holding his Eraserhead notebook, and when Bakugou spots it, the blond grabs it and incinerates it. He can’t even manage to cry seeing the ashy pages break apart and flutter to the floor.
“You should take a swan dive off the roof and pray for a quirk in your next life!” he says, stomping away like he’s had some great victory. Izuku agrees with him. Maybe it would be better.
At age 15, Izuku Midoriya stands on the edge of a rooftop, ready to fall.
He takes a breath and looks at the ground. It’s okay, he thinks to himself, Mom’ll have it easier now. Everyone else will, too. Even me. I’m gonna be selfish, just this once.
He takes a step forward and the ground’s not underneath his feet any more. He feels weightless, he feels alive, his body thrumming with energy and hope for peace after he’s gone. What Izuku doesn’t expect is light, even before he hits the ground. A bright, white light, blinding him, and he’s falling into it gracefully.
The next time he can register anything, it’s the opposite, completely black. He’s floating in some kind of void, feeling absolutely nothing around him. Silent, endless. He wonders if he’s dead, but then a voice speaks to him.
I’m so sorry! I saw you falling and I had to use my quirk on you, you were going to kill yourself! I don’t know what’s going to happen to you, but my quirk sends things to different points in the past. I can’t control when or where you’ll appear, but you’ll be there for a while… Please, convince somebody you’re from the future and get them to save your life at that time! When your time in the past is up, you’ll reappear where you left, in the middle of falling, so you really have to stress how important it is that they be there for you!
Also, don’t let them mess with your life before you jump - it’ll mess up your timeline, and then you wouldn’t have ever been there in the first place! They can’t change a single thing about your life before you jump, otherwise they’ll forget you existed and you’ll forget they existed. So just make sure you understand and that they understand. I kind of freaked out, so it may take longer for you to get back to your time… At least around a month or two on your end? I can’t tell exactly, but you’ll feel it pulling you about a day before you’re due back!
Please don’t let yourself die! You should live!
Izuku processes this, but doesn’t say anything. Whoever this voice is - the owner of the quirk - stopped him from dying by sending him back in time? He supposed that’s what the light was that he fell into, almost kind of embarrassed that somebody caught him trying to die. He wonders if he could write about the time travel quirk in his new journal some time, but doesn’t make an effort to think about it that hard. He’ll be dead in a month, or at least he hoped so.
Good luck! The voice supplies, Stay safe in the past, wherever you end up!
Shouta Aizawa was a quiet, reserved - and, at least, outwardly appearing - sort of cold person. It didn’t mean he didn’t care, of course, quite the opposite in fact! He cared quite a lot, intense in everything he does, he’s just better about keeping it under wraps. He figures that too many people knowing what he’s feeling at any given time only gives them the advantage, and plus he’s tired most of the time anyways. He likes people just fine, but he likes peace and quiet more.
Then when he attends U.A for the very first time, he meets Hizashi Yamada, the ever-loud and boisterous young man who seems determined to be a part of his life whether Shouta likes it or not. He doesn’t mind, secretly, so he lets the loud man pester him as much as he wants. He finds that after his first month at U.A, he’s found himself completely used to him. They even stay over at each other’s apartments, sometimes, and Shouta feels normal, like the other students in his class. He never says anything, but he’s grateful for Hizashi’s presence.
He’s comfortable in this routine at school, enjoying the peace that it affords while he studies to become a Pro Hero. He likes it this way, and so does Hizashi. He’s going to turn 16 soon, excited for the start of his second year, and ready for the end of his first.
The last thing Shouta expects is, while walking home, a blindingly white, incandescent portal to explode open just above him. He reacts defensively, prepared for anything, when suddenly, a boy falls through it, and out of nothing more than pure adrenaline and reflexes, Shouta catches him. Hizashi stares, dumbfounded, looking between the boy and the portal as it fades out of existence. The boy is unconscious, still as death, but still breathing.
“Sh-Shouta! What the hell?! Who is that?!” Hizashi yells, and Shouta says ‘shh!’ in response, gesturing with his head to the boy’s sleeping form.
“I don’t know who he is, but he’s unconscious, and look at his arms.” Shouta whispers, gesturing with his head. His arms are scarred beyond anything he’s seen in his 15 years, and he knows in his heart that whoever this is isn’t evil. Hizashi seems to feel the same thing, and nods. They need to get this boy somewhere safe, wherever he came from.
They decide the best course of action, not knowing exactly the extent of the boy’s injuries, is to take him to Recovery Girl and the U.A staff for diagnoses. They only hoped the boy wasn’t on the verge of death, because something in Shouta’s chest tightens looking at the boy’s face. He had startlingly soft features, with fluffy, black-green hair and freckles like flecks of paint across his skin. Shouta feels the urge to wrap him in one of his sleeping bags and never let go.
He hopes the boy will be okay. So does Hizashi.
In a dreamless sleep, the boy hopes he isn’t.