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Izuku “Deku” Midoriya never married. Sure, he dated a few times in high school, but if not on the first date, then at least on the second, the question would inevitably come up.
“What’s your quirk?”
Izuku was never the one to bring up the subject. Despite a lifelong love of quirks that somehow didn’t end that day on a rooftop so many years ago, he’d learned to keep quiet about it. At least that way he could pretend for a little while that he wasn’t wasting his time and his money. Early on, he used to imagine that when finally asked the dreaded question, he’d answer, and she’d look up nervously and say something like, “Really? Oh my God, me too. I thought I was the only one at the school!”
The reality was much harsher. He almost preferred the ones who would stand up and walk out without a backwards glance. That was better than the ones who made a scene, because then he had to endure looks of pity and disgust from other people, or, on one memorable occasion, be “asked” firmly to leave such a fine, upstanding establishment and never come back. The worst were the nice girls, though. They’d smile and say something like, “Well, quirks aren’t really important unless you’re a hero anyway.” The topic of conversation would drift away from quirks, and he could almost pretend that she meant what she said. The next day, his texts would go unread, and his calls would go unanswered. They’d be too busy to talk in class.
Eventually, he just gave up, bowing to his mother with tears in his eyes and apologizing that she would never get to be a grandmother. Inko hugged him fiercely, her own tears soaking his collar, and said, “you’ve always been all I needed, Izuku.” If she weren’t his mother, he suspected she’d be one of the nice girls, too, telling a comforting lie that she really didn’t believe, waiting to be alone before grieving for grandchildren who would never exist.
“You’re all I’ve ever needed too, Mom.” If only Dad was still here, they could complete the trifecta of lies.
After graduating high school, Izuku went full-time with his job as a paramedic while applying to what seemed like every medical school in Japan. The quickest rejections were from those universities with a “Quirk” field on their applications. While his grades weren’t the greatest, he placed in the top ten on most of the entrance exams he took, studying late into the night to keep his skills sharp. Even then, most medical universities also had an interview process. Inevitably, the dreaded question would be asked. Just like the girls he’d dated in high school, some asked him to leave immediately, while others asked a few polite questions to give him the appearance of hope, but then never communicated with him again.
Musutafu Medical University was one of the second category schools, or so he thought until he received a letter asking him to come in for a second interview. After spending hundreds of thousands of yen travelling all over Japan for interviews and entrance exams, this was a first. He cried in himself to sleep that night, and woke up the next morning to put on his best, and only, suit. Could it be that what he’d searched across Japan for would be in his own back yard?
He entered the small conference room, doing his best not to panic. The fact that only one person waited in the room certainly didn’t help matters. She was a small, grandmotherly woman with her grey hair pulled up into a bun. Despite her walking cane, and her civilian clothing, he’d recognize her anywhere. “R-Recovery Girl!”
“That’s me, sonny, but you can call me Dr. Shuzenji these days. My heroic time has come and gone,” she said with a smile. “Grab a seat. We’ll keep this nice and informal.”
“You’re… the only one interviewing me? I thought it was always three people,” Izuku said.
“That’s the first interview, and that’s usually enough, but sometimes I… take an interest.” She sat down on the couch beside him. “I read over your exam information, the transcript of your interview, and looked at your application. I noticed you’ve been a paramedic since the age of fifteen. Awful young to start doing that kind of work. May I ask why?”
While not the inevitable question, he hated this one almost as much. “When I was fifteen, someone I admired told me, ‘It’s not wrong to dream. However, you need to be realistic.’ I’m sure if you read the transcript, you know that I can never be a hero, but… I just want to help people. Is that wrong of me?”
“Of course not, dear. Honestly, I’m not sure who told you something so stupid, but he was probably some idiot with more muscles than brains,” Recovery Girl winked at him. “You and I both know that’s not the only time you met him, is it?”
“I’m… no, I’m sorry. I only spoke with him that one time.” Broadly, that was true. Sure, he’d been in Kamino that day, and he’d performed CPR on All Might… Toshinori Yagi... long past the point of exhaustion. Lemillion, the hero who would go on to be called the next Symbol of Peace, pulled Izuku away from the body himself. He never got to speak to the man who had been his childhood hero and crushed his dreams. All Might had honestly been gone even before Izuku arrived. Izuku tried his best though. A statue to All Might now stood in Kamino, but every time Izuku saw it, he felt like it mocked his failure. The news had identified him, the quirkless failure who let All Might down, even though it took all of his strength to compress the shriveled chest of the dead hero.
“Doctor-patient confidentiality. I love it. You’re a good boy.” She stood up. “I think you can guess where this is going.”
“I know,” Izuku said quietly. He stood and bowed deeply to Recovery Girl. “I’m sorry for wasting your time.”
“Ho-ho, you’ll only waste my time if you walk out that door, Mr. Midoriya. Do you know what the biggest problem the medical field faces today is?” she asked.
Izuku blinked. “There’s a huge shortage of doctors.”
“That’s just a symptom, I'm looking for the disease. Be a doctor for me. What’s the root cause?”
“Well, healing quirks are extremely rare, so those with quirks like yours are highly sought after.”
“You’re very close,” she said. “Kids with healing quirks are pressured to go into the medical field! They don’t want to be doctors. Hell, half of them will never really be doctors, even if they do get the degree. Take away their quirks, and they couldn’t tell the difference between chicken pox and measles. You, on the other hand, I bet if I broke a bone, you’d have it set and splinted before someone else could even get a gurney in here.”
Izuku smiled. “Well, you are wearing a scarf and carrying a cane. Please don’t break a bone.”
“You’re admitted. I’m the Dean of Medicine for this University, not to mention the Head of Medicine, and unlike my last job, nobody but me can expel students. I don’t suffer fools gladly, and I don’t care much for bigots either. I think you’ll be the best doctor to come out of this school in a decade, maybe since a young girl named Chiyo graduated almost a hundred years ago. Take this.” She handed him a small digital camera. “Because I don’t trust anyone, you’re going to take pictures of your assignments and tests before you turn them in. If you’re not graded to the same standard as every other student, I’ll be replacing a professor, or three.”
Izuku shook his head slowly. “I… don’t understand.”
“You were failed, young man, and the man who failed you died with that as a regret, but he didn’t know how to find you to make up for it. Thanks to the news and his description of you, I did. It’s as simple as that. What he should have told you is that, even without a quirk, you can be a hero. They don’t all wear tights. Some of them wear lab coats.”
Recovery Girl was true to her word, and Izuku Midoriya spent the next six years learning everything he could. Along the way, she did replace three professors, all in his first year of study. By his second year, Izuku was far and away the best student in his grade.
Occasionally, there were grumblings that he had a secret quirk. After all, he could find and tap a vein in even people with the most extreme mutations. He read his textbooks cover to cover until he had them memorized. When he wasn’t in class, he was either in the library or continuing his work as a paramedic. Chiyo Shuzenji beamed with pride as he graduated the top of his class, delivering a brief speech to the other doctors graduating that day.
“The medical field is a calling, one where a doctor may be called on to make decisions that can save, or end, the lives of their patients. As we leave this school to begin our practices, let us always remember that we are there to save lives. We may never appear on the evening news, or defeat a villain, but like someone told me, not all heroes wear tights, some of them wear lab coats. She is my hero, not as Recovery Girl, but as Doctor Chiyo Shuzenji.” He bowed deeply and held it for over a minute before rising again. “Thank you, Doctor. And thank you all… doctors.”
Doctor Izuku Midoriya continued to work as a paramedic for several months after that, until one evening, bone tired and weary, his phone rang. “Hello, Izuku.”
“Dr. Shuzenji! How are you?”
“Old, but I’ve told you before, we’re peers now!” Recovery Girl said with a laugh. “Call me Chiyo.”
“Yes, Doctor,” Izuku replied with a chuckle. “What can I do for you?”
“Come to Musutafu Hospital tomorrow to start your new job,” she said.
“Dr. Shuzenji, they said I didn’t meet their standards,” Izuku said. He tried not to sound bitter, since it wasn’t her fault. “No healing quirk.”
“I know. They hired some idiot who graduated at the bottom of your class with an accelerated growth quirk,” she sighed. “The moron used it on a cancer patient.”
“Oh my God,” Izuku muttered, “Did…?”
“The patient died quickly… and that was honestly the only good thing out of all of this. If they’d lived past the initial shock, it would have taken them days to die in agony.” She paused, “I’m planning to retire soon, so I’ve got free reign to pick my replacement. You’ll be running this place in two years.”
Recovery Girl kept her word in this too, and over the next twenty-three months, she delegated more and more of her responsibilities to Izuku. There was resentment from the other doctors at first, but that rarely lasted long after they got a chance to work with the quirkless physician.
Respect wasn’t the same as fondness, though, and Izuku often ate alone, except for those times when his schedule matched up with Recovery Girl. He honestly dreaded her retirement. The only thing worse than being alone by yourself was being alone in a crowd.
Working in the largest hospital in the same town as UA also gave Izuku the opportunity to meet many heroes, something his younger self would have squealed in delight about, but in time, that became routine too. The excitement of meeting Mt. Lady wore off quickly when the cameras weren’t around and she let her true personality shine through, but a lot of them were good people.
He entered an examination room to find a man wearing silvery armor, holding the hand of a beautiful woman with auburn hair wearing a skin-tight black and pink body suit. Naturally, he recognized Ingenium and Uravity, but he always tried to maintain his professional demeanor. “Mr. and Mrs. Ida? Good morning, I’m Doctor Midoriya,” he said with a bow. “What seems to be the problem?”
“Ah, Doctor! Recovery Girl speaks quite highly of you, but I’m afraid we… would prefer that she handle this. I believe it is a matter of quirk exhaustion, since my wife’s quirk often causes extreme nausea. Usually, however, the effect is short-lived, but this has been going on for two weeks.”
“I told you, Tenya,” she said, “I’ll be fine. Going to the doctor is expensive.”
“You’re just being… silly, Ochaco!” Ingenium protested. “It’s been a fortnight.”
“If I may,” Izuku said, “Dr. Shuzenji is going to be out for the next week, and she’s retiring next month. You’re certainly welcome to go to whatever doctor makes you most comfortable, in fact, I encourage it. However, I believe I know what the issue is, and we can test it in a couple of minutes.”
Ingenium cocked his head to the side. “Why, that’s… amazing. Do you have some kind of diagnostic quirk?”
Izuku smiled. “Not at all, but I am a highly trained doctor, and I've seen this a few times, I think. I won’t claim to know everything Recovery Girl knows, but she did teach me everything I know. Give me just a moment, please.” He pressed a call button and said, “Nurse, I need an HCG test to room seventeen oh one, please.”
“Right away, Doctor.” Moments later, a burly man wearing scrubs with cat ears and stripped white and orange fur opened the door with a small package that he handed to Izuku with a bow.
“It won’t hurt, will it?” Uravity asked.
“That,” Izuku said with a chuckle, “depends entirely on your aim.” He opened the box and handed her a small plastic strip. “You can use the restroom right there.”
“But, how?” Ingenium said. Uravity broke into giggles.
“Well, I would have expected someone to have given you the talk by now, but I can give you the abbreviated version while your wife is taking the test. If it comes back positive, we can do a blood test to be certain,” Izuku said.
“Oh, he’s sassy, Tenya!” Uravity said. “I like him.” She stood up and took the strip. “Fingers crossed.”
“Whichever way it turns out,” Izuku said, “I hope you’ll both be happy.”
As Uravity walked into the bathroom and shut the door behind her, Ingenium lowered his voice. “Thank you. I fear I might have misjudged you, since we’re so… comfortable with Recovery Girl. I think your humor may have made my wife feel at ease, so you have my gratitude. I can be… too serious at times.”
“It’s alright,” Izuku said. “I’ll be honest, I’m a fan of both of you, and I’m glad you are serious. That’s a serious job you’ve got. One I wanted when I was a child. Part of me still does.”
“I’m certain you’d have done well!” Ingenium said, chopping a hand through the air. “There are no useless quirks. You could have found a way, and you’re still young!”
“Well, you’re right… the only useless quirk is one that doesn’t exist, and that’s the one I have.”
Ingenium looked mortified, which did sting a bit, but Izuku got used to it a long time ago. “I’m so sorry. That was dreadfully insensitive and thoughtless of me.”
Izuku smiled. “I may not be jumping into battle, but I save lives. That’s enough for me.”
“Well,” Uravity said, “maybe we can add bringing a life into the world to your resume. I am pregnant, and with Recovery Girl retiring, I want you to be our doctor!”
Nine months later, on Izuku’s birthday, July fifteenth, he helped Ochaco Ida deliver a healthy baby girl weighing three point two kilograms. Without hesitation, they named her Nemuri Ida, after a favorite teacher lost in the war.
Things only got harder after Recovery Girl retired. Though Izuku’s contract gave him a freedom and protection beyond what most doctors had, he knew there were elements of the board that wanted him gone, despite a sterling record and reputation. It became harder after Recovery Girl passed, and some of those who had defended him for her sake fell silent. Some patients refused to see him at all, although in time, he added many of the famous heroes from All Might’s one and only heroics class to his list of patients.
Of course, he’d known one of them his entire life, but after Ka… Bakugo was accepted into UA, they’d never met in person again. He occasionally saw Bakugo’s parents and heard from them that his former childhood friend was doing well, but the past was the past. Best to let that lie.
Fate had a different plan, a major battle near UA, and the number two hero, Dynamight, was injured. Even though Izuku rarely worked in the Emergency Room, the number of wounded heroes and civilians made it an all hands on deck situation. As luck would have it, the head of the ER assigned Izuku to help Dynamight. Laying in the gurney beside him in the waiting room was a small boy, badly injured, no older than the age of five. Mistakes are sometimes made during triage, and Bakugo seemed stable. He hadn’t even noticed Izuku yet, his eyes focused on the child’s injuries and a haunted expression on his face. The small boy had black curly hair matted with blood, and freckles on his face. “Excuse me, Dynamight, I’m supposed to check you, but it seems triage missed this boy. Can you wait until I’ve got him stable?”
“Yeah, Doc. Kid comes first.”
As Izuku leaned over to help the child, Bakugo really noticed him for the first time, his eyes narrowing. He didn’t say anything though. “I need an intubation kit, stat! This kid can’t breathe.”
“I told you to take care of Dynamight!” the head of the Emergency Room yelled. “Don’t waste your time on some quirkless brat.”
Bakugo reached into a compartment on his hero costume and handed a small bundle to Izuku. “Med kit. It’s got an intubation kit in it. Save the kid, D…octor Midoriya.” He turned to the head of the ER. “Hey!” Dynamight yelled. “What’s your name?”
“Doctor Takaguchi,” the man said with pride.
“Then Doctor Takaguchi, shut the Hell up, or I’ll be putting it on your gravestone. I can wait, the kid can’t.”
“Thank you, K… Dynamight.” Izuku said, not looking up from his work.
“Shit. Fucking least I can do. The old hag told me you were working here.”
“Not sure how long,” Izuku said with a chuckle. “Heroes are exempt from triage, so I just made an enemy.”
“Anyone gives you shit about it, call my agency. Just tell them your name, they’ll transfer you to me, day or night.”
“That’s… unexpected.”
Bakugo sighed and leaned back. “I’ve seen a lot of field medics. You’re kilometers ahead of all of them. Guess you had to get started patching wounds pretty early because of some damn asshole kid, huh?”
“He wasn’t that bad,” Izuku said with something that might have been a laugh and something that might have been a sob.
“No, I guess not,” Bakugo said, with a similar tone. “Little bastard was worse.”
Doctor Izuku Midoriya was fired two days later for ignoring hospital procedure. The small quirkless boy, named Daiki Yamashita, lived.
Izuku had saved religiously, never bothering to move out of the small apartment he’d rented ages ago. At the age of thirty-two, he had savings enough to see him through the rest of his life. They’d have to suffice, since the odds of finding a paying job were now extremely low. He moped for a week, then decided he’d devote himself to a free clinic. There were still lives that needed saving, and they couldn’t afford to be picky. He’d just woken up when someone started pounding on his door. “Oi, Midoriya! Open up! I know you’re in there.”
He made it to the door and opened it. “Kacchan, it’s six in the morning.”
“You should have looked through the peephole, dumbass! This isn’t the best neighborhood. What if it was someone wanting to beat your ass?”
Izuku blinked. “I’m… still not sure it isn’t.”
Bakugo growled, then snorted, and then laughed. “Oh, God, that’s fucking fair. Who knew you’d grow up to be a snarky asshole?”
Izuku grinned. “I had a good example.”
“Damn, Deku, even villains haven’t hit me that hard.” He paled. “Shit, I didn't fucking mean to call you that.”
“I kind of started it when I called you ‘Kacchan,’” Izuku admitted. “Come on in, coffee?”
“God, yes,” Bakugo said gratefully. “Our teacher used to drink coffee like it was going out of style. On a dare I took a sip out of his thermos one day. I saw God, shit you not. I’ve never had it that strong again, but that was enough to get me addicted for life.”
“I am a doctor… or I was. I make it strong.” Izuku slid a mug toward Bakugo.
He took a sip. “Fuck, Aizawa would have loved you. Bet he’d have given you a nickname and everything. And I’m here about the ‘or I was’ part.”
“Look, don’t feel guilty. They were looking for an excuse for years. I only had the job because of Chiyo.”
“Chiyo?”
“Recovery Girl,” Izuku said, sadly. “I miss her.”
Bakugo lifted his mug. “Damn straight. Here’s to the O.G. R.G.”
“Don’t worry about me,” Izuku said. “I’ve got some money saved up, enough to get by, and I’ll keep busy at a free clinic. Like I said, it’s not your fault.”
“Maybe not the job, but there’s a lot of shit that was my fault.”
Izuku shook his head. “That was a long time ago.”
“Look, I told some friends about you. Turns out, almost all of the idiots were your patients, and nobody ever bothered to tell me,” Bakugo said.
“Well, that would be kind of weird,” Izuku laughed. “You haven’t told me the name of your doctor.”
“Meh, fair. Stop trying to get me off topic. Look, part of being a… hero is community outreach. We’re setting up a charity. Outreach, activism, supplying healthcare. All for the people who are underserved. The quirkless. People with extreme mutations. People with villain quirks. We need someone to run it. I suggested you. They fucking ate that shit up.”
Izuku blinked. “Is this… some kind of misguided apology?”
“Fuck no,” Bakugo said. “You know I’ve never apologized for anything in my damn life… Izuku.” He held out his hand. “Want the job?”
Izuku smiled. “I’ll take it.”
Over the next ten years, with the support of many heroes who graduated from UA, Izuku Midoriya built the Class A Hope Foundation into a force for change all across Japan. They supplied healthcare and education to those who were left behind and forgotten by the world’s superhuman society.
Every year, fewer quirkless children were born, but the Foundation believed everyone should be able to live with dignity and compassion from others. This principle guided the Foundation and all their work, and no one exemplified that more than Izuku Midoriya. Even as the quirkless grew rarer, those with extreme mutations or villain quirks became more common place, and Izuku fought for them as well. He never leaped into battle, but no one fought harder.
He lobbied politicians, publicly shaming those who said that it was a waste of time and money. He worked tirelessly, and even gave public speeches, often side by side with heroes from the top ten. “After all, these people are children of Japan,” Izuku said on the steps of the Diet building on a rainy day in April, April fourth, Chiyo Shuzenji’s birthday. “They are our sons, our daughters, and if we don’t care, what does that tell the world about Japan? Not all heroes wear tights, and we can all be heroes to them, together, just by showing a little human compassion.”
These were nearly Izuku’s last words, as an assassin’s bullet from a remnant of the Paranormal Liberation Army tore through his chest. Katsuki Bakugo was the first one to reach him. “Hold on, Izuku!" He looked up at the crowd and screamed, "I need a fucking medic!”
“Hey… Kacchan. It’s okay. At least I saved someone, right? I'm sorry we couldn’t be heroes together.”
“Izuku… fuck. You saved more people than I ever will. The only reason we weren’t heroes together is because I never fucking caught up to you.”
“I’m… a hero?” Izuku asked with wonder in his eyes as he took his last breath.
“Better than All Might.” Katsuki Bakugo meant every word and, every day for as long as he lived, he prayed that Izuku heard him.
Izuku Midoriya was cremated sixteen days later after a two-week period of mourning. Nearly all of the top hundred heroes in Japan sang his praises, and a statue in his honor was erected in the same plaza where All Might lost his life. While the statue of All Might lifted one fist into the air as a symbol of victory, the statue of Izuku Midoriya looked toward the future, his hands open and reaching, as though offering help to anyone who needed it.
At the age of sixty-seven, Inko Midoriya grieved for her only son. Katsuki Bakugo sat beside her, along with the rest of the heroes who had given her son a chance to change the world. As they left the temple, a small crowd was waiting for them. A young boy, maybe fifteen with fluffy black hair and freckles on his face stepped forward slowly. “Mrs. Midoriya?”
“Yes,” Inko said, reminded so much of her Izuku that she couldn’t hold back her tears.
“I’m Daiki Yamashita,” he said. “Your son saved my life. He saved all our lives. Most of us don’t have parents, but your son was like a father to us. We're... Izuku Midoriya's children.” His voice broke. “I… want you to have this.” He handed her a piece of paper, a school assignment.
Despite her tears, she couldn’t help smiling as she read the first few words.
“This is the story of Izuku Midoriya. He was the world’s greatest hero… even without a quirk.”