Chapter Text
There were a lot of days that were ingrained in Izuku’s memory.
There was the day Kacchan got his quirk. After the first few explosions, once they realized it was his mom’s quirk, they had spent hours discussing what quirk Izuku could have that would best complement Kacchan’s. They immediately started talking about hero names, costumes, and special moves. Their future suddenly seemed so real.
Then there was the day the doctor told a tremoring Izuku and his ever-anxious mother that he would never get a quirk. His whole world had fallen apart in seconds, but he still had hope. When his mother took him home, he had settled down in front of their computer and pulled up his favorite video. The one of All Might’s Japanese debut. He watched it on repeat for hours, until his mother came in to tell him it was time for bed. He had asked, with tears in his eyes, if he could still be a hero. When she dropped to her knees and told him that she wished things were different, his heart broke.
There was the day his father left. He stood in the doorway, so tall that Izuku couldn’t see his face, speaking to his mother when they both thought he was asleep. He told his mother that he would leave, that he would be gone, but he would come back once Izuku was 18. He told his mother that he couldn’t bear the shame of a quirkless son, and he would come back when they could forget about Izuku. His mother had been furious, with tears in her eyes as she told him that he would never be welcome back if he walked out of their home. He left anyway.
Today would go down as another unforgettable day.
----
As he clawed against the sludge that poured down his throat, as his vision began to fade, he was furious. He was going to be the first quirkless hero. He was going to prove Kacchan and the rest of his bullies wrong.
But he wasn’t. He was going to die, just another quirkless kid, just another name attached to the villain’s record.
At least, that’s what he thought.
He had never thought that All Might himself would show up. That he would save Izuku.
Izuku was in awe, but he couldn’t afford to be overwhelmed, he had a question that he needed to ask. So, when All Might crouched down to launch off, Izuku latched onto his leg and held on like his life depended on it. Because, well, it sort of did.
When they finally landed on the rooftop, he was desperate. So he blurted it out. Even as All Might shrunk and told his story, Izuku waited eagerly for an answer. When All Might looked up at him, his heart, already fractured and bruised, completely shattered.
“It is impossible to become a hero without a quirk.”
Izuku knew that the hero was talking, but nothing could get through the air rushing through his ears and the sick feeling in his stomach. He watched as All Might stood and walked away, but Izuku stayed there, frozen, for at least another hour.
When the pain of the wind chill finally became too much to bear, he blinked and took a trembling step forward. He eyed the edge of the roof, Kacchan’s words from earlier in the day ringing in his ears.
Who knew, maybe he would be born with a quirk in his next life. Then his dreams would be achievable. He could be a hero, he could save people, and he could be happy.
The sound of a police siren jarred him from his thoughts, and he turned to see a series of police cars racing towards some commotion a few blocks away. He also noted the Pro Heros scrambling in the same direction.
For a moment, he considered running after them, fingers clenching around his notebook, but he knew better now. No amount of hero research would ever help him. He shoved the notebook into his backpack, turned to the door, and shuffled down a dozen flights of stairs to get back to the streets.
He started on his way home. He still had his mother, his dedicated protector against the cruelties of the world, and he longed for her gentle smile and quiet assurances.
Somehow, he wasn’t surprised when his feet led him to the disaster scene. He had been chasing them for years, and one conversation, no matter how devastating, wouldn’t change years of habit.
He glanced around the scene, taking note of all the heroes who had arrived. The police were holding the hoard of curious civilians back, repeating their mantra about staying out of the heroes' way, while a rescue hero turned his arms, which resembled the nozzle of a fire hose, towards the flaming buildings. There were a handful of minor heroes and a couple of up-and-coming pros attempting to engage with the villain, but it seemed like none of them were having any success.
The villain was eerily familiar, and as Izuku examined him he had the most horrible flashback of slime covering his skin and shoving its way down his throat. But All Might had captured that villain, so this…this must be someone else.
With that, he turned to continue his trek home, only to freeze in place when a pair of dark, sunken eyes caught his attention. All Might, still in his diminished form, stood clinging to a light pole, watching with a dark expression.
He waited a moment, expecting the hero to summon his power and save the day, but he did nothing.
He did nothing.
Izuku’s mind whirled with the implications of it as hot anger bubbled up to his skin. The man was watching someone die, when Izuku knew he had the power to save them. He was just…watching. How many other times had he watched? How many others had died under his sunken gaze?
“Let me go!” The victim screamed at the top of his lungs, more explosions joining the sounds of chaos. He had managed to free his mouth from the sludge, and-
And it was Kacchan.
That voice would be forever ingrained in his memory, along with the tell-tell signs of his explosions. He would know Kacchan anywhere, of that he was certain.
He looked back to All Might, his anger now an inferno as the hero watched his best friend die.
Finally, he looked at the victim, at Kacchan, encased in sludge and fighting for his life, while the heroes stood by, waiting. Waiting for someone to show up and save the day, waiting for Kacchan to lose his fight, waiting for the fight to end.
Over the crowd of people, green eyes met red ones.
Before Izuku knew what he was doing, he was sprinting through the crowd, shoving people out of his way and sliding past the police. He had spent years running from bullies, and the police were nothing compared to a violent teen intent on proving his place in the pecking order of middle school.
As he came up behind the police line, his feet didn’t stop moving, but, finally, his mind caught up to him. When he had been in the grasp of the villain earlier, he had noted how careful he was to keep his eyes out of reach, and he had been undone by the wind generated in All Might’s attack. Izuku couldn’t create that type of wind, but he could aim for the eyes.
He slung his backpack over his shoulder, hurling it with all his might to hit the villain in the eye. The villain reeled, but Izuku continued forward. Moving the sludge wouldn’t do anything, he had learned that earlier too, but maybe moving Kacchan would. It was worth a shot.
He dug his hands into the sludge, grabbed hold of Kacchan’s arm, and yanked. The teen was jostled from the sludge and, combined with the villain’s confusion and lack of focus, it was enough to pull a whole arm and shoulder out of the sludge.
“What the hell are you doing here, Deku?” Kacchan’s voice was just as loud and abrasive as ever, but it meant that his mouth was once again cleared of sludge. Still, the old nickname stung, especially considering the circumstances.
“I-I’m s-saving your l-life,” Izuku bit out under his breath. Izuku pulled again, with most of Kacchan free. Kacchan still scraped at the sludge that remained on him, and it was clear he hadn’t figured out that it wouldn’t work.
“I don’t need your he-”
Izuku heaved once more, putting all of his strength behind it, and Kacchan popped free, only a boot stuck in the villain’s body.
The villain was coming around again, though, and the sludge was quickly being aimed at the both of them. Izuku tried to pull Kacchan into running, because really, what could they do, but the newly freed teen was furious, and he set his feet to fight.
As the sludge neared, Izuku squeezed his eyes shut, hoping that this time, at least his death would come quickly.
Suddenly, the wind came, blowing in a strong gust across his face. It was enough to knock him over, and he was vaguely aware of Kacchan hitting the ground beside him, but it was strong enough to blow the villain away, leaving him a mess of small, disassembled clumps.
Izuku looked up, hoping to finally see All Might, but, instead, he saw a hero with bright red wings and a slightly oversized aviator jacket. He blinked, not recognizing the hero at all, until he smirked.
This was Hawks. He was good, in the top 5, and here he stood, having saved their lives.
The police scrambled to collect and contain the sludge before the villain had a chance to reassemble, and Hawks leaned down to pull the boys to their feet.
Then, like always, the attention went to Kacchan. The heroes began crowding around him, praising his quirk and his strength, and they pushed Izuku out of the way.
Satisfied that Kacchan had survived and hoping to avoid a scolding from the police, Izuku turned to leave. He tossed one last glance at All Might. He still stood, clinging to the pole, with a surprised look on his face.
He still hadn’t done anything.
Izuku shook his head and ducked into the alleyways. He had a lot to consider.
---
After that day, things got undeniably worse.
He could barely pull himself out of bed most mornings. It was so hard to continue through life now that his drive, his motivation, his only goal was gone, destroyed by the man he had looked up to for the majority of his life.
His grades took a nose dive. They hadn’t always been great, he knew that, but he also knew that a large part of it was his teacher's quirk-ism. He didn’t care anymore, though. He didn’t pay attention in class, he turned in blank worksheets, and he watched his somewhat average grades become large zeros on his report cards.
He had always been bullied in school, but it got worse each day. He wasn’t sure if they could sense that all of the hope had been drained out of him with that uncanny middle-school sense, or if it was because Kacchan was trying to prove that Izuku was still below him, but part of him wasn’t even sure if it mattered anymore.
What mattered was that their vicious nature came out even more.
He had been tripped and shoved daily before, but beatings were a once-a-month rarety. Now? He was still being pushed around, but his classmates decided to treat him to daily beatings now.
He didn’t think he cared, not really, He had given up on himself. There was no future for a quirkless kid in Japan, and he knew it. There was no future for the quirkless in general.
While it was technically illegal, most companies asked about your quirk in applications, and it wasn’t really a coincidence when those who selected ‘quirkless’ or ‘choose not to disclose’ never got an interview. Most places were the same, especially colleges, banks, and landlords.
No education, no bank account, no job, and no home. It was as good as a death sentence.
It was no surprise that the life expectancy for the quirkless was low, and he had no doubt he would be any different.
At this point, he was simply going through the motions.
He wasn’t sure why he didn’t end it all.
That wasn’t true, he knew what kept him clinging onto life. It was his mother. Of course it was. If he killed himself, not only would she be alone, but she would live the rest of her life as a disgrace. But if he died in a villain attack, an accident, an ‘accident’, or any other way, she would be fine. She might be lonely for a while, but his father would probably come back, and they could start over. They could rebuild their marriage, have another baby who could do the bare minimum of having a quirk.
So he knew why he didn’t kill himself. It was only a matter of time before the world did it for him.
Still, he was a little frustrated that the bruises were getting harder to cover.
He didn’t want his mother to find them, raise a big fuss, and find out about the way the world treated the quirkless. She still believed that Izuku had opportunities in life, that he could go on to be a successful doctor or lawyer, and he knew it gave her hope. It allowed her to see the best in people, to believe that they were good, and he didn’t want to take that away from her.
So he went to the corner store after school to buy concealer, and he kept going.
---
Izuku found himself once again pinned up against the stone walls of his school. His feet weren’t touching the ground, he was only being held up by his uniform jacket, another cruel classmate yelling in his face.
He had gotten pretty good at blocking it out, so he didn’t listen. Instead, he found himself watching Kacchan, who walked past the dark hallway, pausing to look down it.
As Kacchan lingered, Izuku wondered if he was going to intervene. He didn’t usually, but he also didn’t stop this long either. He felt a vague glimmer of hope.
Then, Kacchan tsk-ed and continued to the lunch room. No one would be interfering today.
“Are you even listening, you quirkless loser?”
The anger in the voice caught him a little off guard, and he turned to look at the boy holding him up. The intensity of it was unexpected, they were usually laughing and mocking.
Izuku opened his mouth to respond, only to have a hand from the boy’s second set of arms slap him across the face. That would be difficult to cover.
“You’re so worthless, you can’t even listen to your betters! You’re just-” he seemed to be searching for words, and then the inspiration hit with a dark smile. “You’re just trash. Just a useless Deku. Do you know what we do with trash?”
The boys behind him whooped, winding the 4 armed students up.
This wouldn’t end well.
“We throw them out.”
---
The boys had made good on their threat. They had pushed him out a second-story window into the school’s dumpster, and the landing had taken its toll on him.
He stank, the leftovers of students’ lunches and snacks clinging to his uniform like a second skin. He had stopped to remove most of it, but he wouldn’t be able to get the stains out. He would have to tell his mother there was a food fight or something like that.
It was as he reached to pull a rotten banana peel from under his collar that he discovered the real problem.
He knew he had a concussion, the blur in his vision and fogginess of his mind guaranteed that, but, when he moved his left arm, he felt a sharp jarring pain. It wasn’t unfamiliar, he had broken fingers and toes over the years, even his leg when he was three, but the intensity was…unexpected.
Still, he probed at the rapidly swelling limb, discovering that it was his radius that broke. It didn’t feel too bad. While it hurt like hell, he doubted that it would kill him.
So Izuku staggered into the corner store by the school. He needed bandages, more concealer, probably color correcter too, and he needed a pain killer. He found the items easy enough, and the clerk didn’t ask any questions as she rang him up.
Armed with his new medical supplies, he ducked into an alleyway and plopped himself onto the ground.
He worked quickly, taking 3 or 4 of the painkillers with a swig of warm soda, though he knew he didn’t have time to wait for them to kick in.
He bit down hard on the strap of his backpack, braced himself against the wall, and moved his broken into place. He took the bandage, held his arm out, and grit his teeth as he wrapped it around himself as tightly as he could. He couldn’t go to the hospital for a cast, so this would have to suffice to keep it still.
The pain was excruciating, and he was glad that he had used his bag, because his scream would have drawn someone’s attention.
He slumped back against the wall, breathing heavily as he took in his work. At some point, the pain had caused him to break out in a sweat, so his skin was uncomfortably warm and sticky. But, he had somewhat braced his arm. In this position, it would probably heal okay, but it would never really work the same.
Not that it mattered anymore. He didn’t need to stay in pique physical condition, because he would never be a hero, and this was what it would take to let his mother keep her hope.
He took a few deep breaths, just enough to get his breathing under control, and stood up again. His arm still hurt, but he thought that he could wrap it around himself, holding it with his other arm, and people would just think he was nervous like usual. And anyway, the pain medication was starting to kick in, so it wouldn’t be too bad.
Satisfied with his mediocre first aid and his cover story, and with the sun beginning to set, he headed home.
He didn’t even notice the plastic bag he had left behind.