Chapter Text
A somebody was once a nobody who wanted to and did.
—John Burroughs
As humans evolve, more people are being born with supernatural powers every day. Although roughly only twenty percent of the population are born Quirkless—a hundred years ago, they had been the majority, not the minority—the number hasn’t fallen to zero, which means that no one’s child is absolutely guaranteed to manifest a Quirk. This small statistic weighs in Inko’s mind as she watches her son grow from a wailing infant to a curious toddler, and then to an excitable child with a love of heroes. She’s the one who sees it all. Her husband’s absence leaves a hole in her heart that is temporarily filled by her sweet little boy, but it doesn’t stop these thoughts from invading her mind when she is alone. Her son is such a good boy, it would break her heart if he didn't inherit any powers.
Her fears are unfounded. Izuku is four years old when Inko finally takes him to see the doctor. “He doesn’t have the extra toe-joint,” he tells them, showing them the x-ray he took of Izuku’s foot. “He should show signs of his Quirk soon.” Her relief is almost palpable when she hears the confirmation.
Hisashi can breathe fire, and Inko can pull small objects to herself. What kind of Quirk would manifest as a result of such a combination? Or would her son be more likely to inherit one of their Quirks? Inko entertains a few fantasies in her head, though she is careful not to put too much stock into her imagination lest she unintentionally disappoints herself.
The little boy is beyond excited, though he has yet to show any signs of his Quirk. So of course, the very first person he tells—right after repeating it fifty times to his mother, god bless that woman and her patience—is Kacchan.
Young Bakugou Katsuki grunts, then loudly announces, “It can’t be as cool as mine!” He accentuates his statement by promptly blowing up the stick in his hand. This is a terrible idea, of course, as he had only recently began to practice with his Quirk and, instead of obliterating the stick from existence, he gets splinters stuck in his hand for his trouble. Izuku runs to get their parents.
The days pass by normally, with no sign of Izuku’s Quirk showing even as his fifth birthday comes and goes. Izuku tries his hardest to breathe fire (he almost faints from lack of oxygen) or pull objects to himself (nothing so much as twitches in his direction), but his lack of progress is discouraging.
“How can I become a hero like this?” he cries.
Inko presses a tender kiss to his temple and whispers, “You need to be patient, baby. The doctor said you have a Quirk. It’ll come to you when it’s ready, okay?”
“Okay,” he sniffles. They sit on the couch and watch reruns of All Might’s heroic acts until Izuku falls asleep.
Three days later, Katsuki is angrier than usual when Izuku walks up to him at school. He yells at Izuku to leave him alone.
“Kacchan—” the little green-haired boy begins, but the explosive child cuts him off.
“Go away, Deku!” Katsuki pushes at his shoulder, sparks flaring in warning from his open palm.
Izuku presses on despite the clear threat. “What’s wrong, Kacchan? Tell me!” he pleads, wide, round eyes staring innocently at his friend.
Katsuki falters for a second—because damn, it should be illegal to look that cute—then his eyebrows draw together in an enraged expression. “Stop looking down on me, you nerd!” he screams, pushing Izuku away with enough force to make him fall to the floor with a yelp.
Izuku gazes up at him, teary-eyed and confused. “K-Kacchan? Why are you so mad at me?” he asks.
The blond boy stomps over to him with as much anger as a five year old child can muster. “You lied to me, didn’t you? Stupid Deku!” he bellows into Izuku’s bewildered face. “You said you were gonna have a Quirk! So where is it?!”
“I-I-I don’t—I don’t k-know!” Izuku stammers, backpedaling away from the angry boy.
“Well?! Where’s your Quirk?” Katsuki demands. “Are you hiding it? Think I’m not good enough to see it? You’re not gonna tell me you were lying and that you’re actually Quirkless, are you?”
“I’m not!” the green-haired boy protests, clambering to his feet. “I’m not, I’m not! I just haven’t gotten it yet, that’s all!”
Katsuki scoffs, “Whatever. You keep saying that.” He sees a teacher heading their way at the sound of the commotion they had been making and turns to leave.
“Kacchan, wait!” Izuku reaches out in a fit of desperation and does something he’s never done before.
He grabs Katsuki’s arm.
The world goes dark for a moment. And then…he sees.
There is a pulsating crimson core hovering before him, as small as his fist, sickly red strands spider-webbing outwards from the center. Yellow sparks burst and pop at random points across the strands, and around him they beat erratically; violently. It sounds almost like a heartbeat, only angrier. He doesn’t even stop to think about where he is or what’s going on. He instinctively knows what he has to do.
Izuku holds out a single hand and pulls.
The real world rushes back so fast that Izuku nearly gets whiplash. He feels disoriented at the sight of so much light and color after being in the dark for a few seconds. In front of him Katsuki freezes midstep, shivering. Izuku feels something round and heavy pressing into the palm of his free hand and he looks down at it, his grip on his friend’s arm loosening. He stares at the object in his hand, nonplussed.
It’s a marble.
Bigger than the average marble with a two-centimeter diameter, it’s crystal-clear with dark swirls of red frozen inside of it in an eternal dance. At the very center, there is a yellow starburst. The red swirls curl around it protectively, as if attempting to shield it from the world. It’s beautiful. He also has no idea where it came from—well, no, he does have an idea but...was…could that maybe be…?
He doesn’t register Katsuki pulling his arm out of his grasp, but as the silence stretches on, Izuku realizes that his friend hasn’t said a single word to him. When he finally looks up to gauge Katsuki’s reaction, the other boy has the strangest expression on his face. The fact that he looks genuinely confused and not angrily confused makes this whole experience even weirder.
“Um,” Izuku says, staring back at the explosive boy. “I think… I just got my Quirk.”
Katsuki remains quiet, which makes Izuku feel uneasy. He didn’t hurt Kacchan, did he?
They’re both startled when the teacher finally reaches them. “Boys, what’s this I’m hearing about an argument?” she asks sternly.
The blonde kicks mulishly at the floor. Izuku holds out his marble. “I think I just got my Quirk, Nakajima-sensei,” he answers.
“Oh my, how lovely! Did you make this, Izuku-kun?” she exclaims, gently taking the marble from his hand and admiring it in the bright light of the hallway.
“Uh-huh. I’m not really sure how, but when I grabbed Kacchan’s arm, there’s this… thing that I could see. Everybody was gone and there was this red ball thing in front of me and I didn’t really think much about it, but I guess I knew that I needed to pull it out somehow? And um, I think when I did that, that thing I saw became that,” Izuku explains, gesturing to the colorful object.
Nakajima-sensei gives him back the marble. “That’s an interesting ability, Izuku-kun. I’m sure your mother will be happy to hear about it,” she says, giving him a pat on the head. Izuku giggles at her and holds the marble close to him.
The teacher turns to Katsuki. “Katsuki-kun, we’ve talked about this before. No loud arguments with your classmates, okay?”
“Whatever,” the blond boy mutters.
“Now, when Izuku-kun activated his Quirk, did you feel anything?” she inquires.
Katsuki shifts uncomfortably under her gaze. “…I stopped bein' mad at him,” he replies, seeming to find the floor very interesting all of a sudden.
Nakajima-sensei beams. “See, that wasn’t so hard to say, was it?” she hums, taking both of them by the hand. Katsuki half-heartedly protests as she leads them away, which is a far cry from his usual angry screamfest. Izuku wonders if he really did just steal Kacchan’s anger with his new Quirk.
Their classmates ooh and aah over Izuku’s new marble, which is the most attention he’s gotten all year and it makes him feel a bit giddy. At some point, he offers the glass ball to Kacchan, but the boy refuses to take it. “Keep it, it’s part of your Quirk,” he says before he leaves.
When Inko comes to pick him up that day, Izuku greets her with a huge smile.
“Mom! Guess what, I got my Quirk today!” he shouts, running up to her and throwing himself against her soft belly in an enthusiastic tackle.
As expected, Inko is absolutely ecstatic at the news and she sweeps him up in a huge hug.
“Oh, my sweet baby Izuku, that’s wonderful!” she coos, nuzzling his cheek affectionately. “Tell me about it. Did you inherit one of our Quirks or is it a combination Quirk? I do hope that you take after me, but fire-breath is still a lovely Quirk to have!” He wiggles his way out of her hold and then shows her the marble.
“Uh, actually I can make these. This is made of Kacchan’s anger, I think. I’ve only done it once, so I’m not really sure my Quirk works yet, but so far I think I can see things when I touch people,” he rambles, gesturing animatedly with his tiny hands. “Like when I grabbed Kacchan’s arm, the whole world turned dark! Then there was this floating red light thing and I pulled on it and it became this marble. So I think maybe I can sense anger? I’m not sure if it’s only anger or if it applies to other emotions, but I guess my Quirk allows me to pull them out of people and make them not mad anymore. Kacchan’s anger turned into this marble and after I did that, he wasn’t mad at all! If this Quirk allows me to help people not be angry, then I’m really glad I have it.”
He pauses to take a deep breath and blushes slightly when he realizes that he had started chattering away at his mom. Inko listens to every word with a smile on her face. She’s sure that he’ll explain it to her more when he’s older and can articulate things better, but she caught the gist of it from his rambling. A Quirk that can manifest anger or other negative emotions into beautiful inanimate objects, huh? It’s not really what she was expecting from a combination of hers and Hisashi’s Quirks, but it sounds amazing all the same.
They have katsudon for dinner that night to celebrate. Inko hunts down a small decorative dish she can use to proudly display the little trinket on one of their shelves.
After dinner, Izuku gets out his notebook and writes about what he currently knows about his Quirk. He looks up and sees All Might’s grinning face staring down at him from the posters plastered all over his bedroom walls, and thinks, I can be a hero, too!
Izuku goes to bed the happiest he’s ever been in his life.
In public, Quirk usage is strictly regulated to Pro Heroes with an official hero license. That doesn’t stop the villains from doing villain things (and really, without villains there would be no hero industry in the first place) but mostly everybody knows to follow the law. Young children are a different story.
Izuku is shopping with his mother the next day when he sees a lost little girl with black hair crying on a nearby bench. He tugs on his mother’s sleeve.
Inko turns and sees what he sees. “Oh no, the poor darling,” she gasps. Without hesitation, the two of them walk over to the girl.
“Um, excuse me,” Izuku says, catching the other child’s attention. She sniffles loudly and wipes at her eyes with the back of her hands. Inko kindly hands her a handkerchief.
“Y-yes?” the little girl asks meekly, taking the hankie and wiping her face with it. “Who are you?"
“I’m Izuku and this is my mom. We saw you crying and we want to help you!” Izuku declares. “So what’s wrong?”
The girl tears up again. “I lost my mommy and daddy!” she bawls loudly. “I was looking at the pretty flowers and then they were gone!”
“There, there,” Inko says gently. “So you’re lost? I’m sure your mommy and daddy are worried about you, too. We’ll help you find them, won’t we, Izuku?”
“Yeah!” Izuku beams. “So don’t be sad anymore, ‘kay?”
He takes her hand without thinking and is plunged into the same dark world he saw with Kacchan. But this time, the angry red core that he saw within his friend is gone; instead, a cool blue core shines faintly ahead of him, drooping, inky tendrils of blue and gray waving to and fro around it. Izuku pulls at it the way he did the first time.
When he flashes back to reality, Inko is giving him a concerned look. “Izuku honey? Is everything alright?” she asks.
“Yeah, I’m okay. Just have to get used to my Quirk,” he answers, giving a quick shake of his head to get rid of the remaining fuzziness. Inko looks down at him with a helplessly fond expression. When Izuku looks at the girl again, he’s pleased to find that she has stopped crying.
Izuku feels the smooth, round surface of his new marble in his other hand. He holds it up for inspection. This time the marble is smaller, smoky swirls of light gray intertwining with deep blue to form a shape like a teardrop in the center. He gives it to the girl with a bright chirp of, “Here, you can have this! It’s something I made from your sadness!”
The little girl stares at him in wonder, her tiny fingers clasped loosely around the small marble. “I…I don’t feel sad anymore! T-thank you! Um, will you really help me find my mommy and daddy?” she asks shyly, sliding off the bench. She returns the handkerchief, damp with her tears. The woman pockets it without a word.
“Of course we will, sweetheart,” Inko says, smiling and taking her hand. “What’s your name?”
The girl grins. “I’m Suzume! That thing you did when you made me stop feeling sad… was that your Quirk?” she questions Izuku. He nods happily. “That’s so cool! I bet you would be a really good threp—therp—threpis?”
“A therapist? That’s a sweet suggestion,” Inko remarks, starting to walk down the street again. “But knowing my little Izuku, there’s only one thing he wants to be when he grows up.”
“I want to be a hero!” Izuku chimes in, right on cue. He even punches a fist into the air for good measure. “Never fear, for I am here!”
Suzume giggles. “Yay, you can do it!” she cheers, also pumping her small fist towards the sky. “I’m gonna tell my mommy and daddy about you when we find them! This marble is so pretty, I’m sure they’ll think so too!”
It doesn’t take long to locate Suzume’s parents, both of whom are beyond relieved to find her safe and unharmed. They thank Inko profusely for helping to guide their child back to them.
“Oh, it was no problem! In fact, you should be thanking my little Izuku,” Inko gushes proudly, ushering her son forward. “He’s the one who brought her to my attention.”
Suzume’s father, a tall man with side-swept chestnut hair and a small moustache, kneels down and ruffles Izuku’s curly hair. “Thank you very much, Izuku-kun. I have faith that one day you will be an amazing hero,” he says kindly. Izuku feels indescribably happy at the praise and beams, his smile stretching from ear to ear.
“Mommy, Daddy! Look at what Izuku gave me!” Suzume bursts out excitedly, showing them the small glass marble. They gasp in awe at the sight of the bauble.
“Oh my goodness, it’s beautiful! Where did you buy this from?” Suzume’s mother inquires, looking at the way it shines in the sunlight.
“I made it!” Izuku proclaims. “Suzume was really sad and I wanted to cheer her up, so I used my Quirk to make her not sad anymore!”
“Your Quirk? I see. You must have a very special Quirk, Izuku-kun. Thank you for helping my daughter,” Suzume’s mother says, handing the little marble back to her child. “You’ll make a wonderful hero someday.”
Izuku doesn’t think he can get any happier. He’s helping people and they’re thanking him! He’s starting to feel like a hero already.
As Izuku grows up, he finds out that he can make more than just plain old marbles out of people’s negative emotions.
If he focuses hard enough, he can mold the core emotion into a different shape, but it takes a lot of effort and the first time he tries it, he throws up afterwards. That doesn’t stop him from practicing though. By the time Izuku turns ten, he can make up to five custom sculptures a day before he becomes nauseous. When he’s twelve, he can make seven.
His Quirk becomes famous amongst his peers, especially the girls. Feeling sad? No problem, have a glass dolphin. Feeling jealous? Here’s a blossoming flower. Need to reel in that hatred? Take this roaring tiger. Tired of being lonely? A glass puppy for you!
Naturally the strength of the emotion affects the size of the marble. A depressed teenager will have much more negative emotions than a girl who’s mad at her friend for stealing her lipgloss.
For Katsuki, who’s usually either angry, angrier, or furious, Izuku takes his rage and gifts him with a magnificent western red dragon, complete with twisted black horns, curved claws, and a pair of deadly wings arched high over its spiny back. A gout of scarlet flames spews from its open maw, lined with tiny sharp teeth.
“Kacchan, you really should stop being so mean to other people,” he chastises, holding out the delicate glass figurine to his dumbstruck childhood friend. “Look at how much anger you have pent up! It’s not healthy you know.” He takes one of Katsuki’s hands and gently places the dragon into his open palm. The glass sculpture is heavy and solid, big enough to nearly cover his hand.
Katsuki stares at the glass dragon with wide eyes, his mouth falling open in true surprise. He doesn’t thank Izuku for it, but when word gets around later that the explosive boy had stopped picking on other students, for Izuku that’s enough.
It doesn’t stop there, in fact. The neighborhood bullies and potential villains quickly learn not to mess with the green-haired, bright-eyed boy, because somehow the local human dynamite Bakugou Katsuki will catch wind of the confrontation and come running, palms a-blazing and itching for an epic beatdown. He always wins. And Izuku never fails to thank him.
The tormentor has suddenly become the protector. Izuku isn’t sure why Katsuki decided to listen to him this time instead of all the other times, but he can’t argue with the results.
Whenever Izuku spectates pro hero fights, he sometimes wonders if it would make a difference if he casually strolled in and yanked out the villain’s negative emotions. There’s too much risk when he’s still young and small so he doesn’t dare, but he wonders.
Sadness, anger, hatred, jealousy, loneliness, guilt, anxiety, depression, despair—he can take them all and make them into something beautiful. Though the baubles he makes have no real value, for the people he gives them to, it’s a reminder that they are stronger than their fears, that they are not worthless, but human, just like everyone else.
But is the same thing true for villains?
Quietly, he jots notes down into his hero analysis notebook, often forgetting to mind his mumbling habit. He observes both heroes and villains alike, and draws up his own conclusions for how a fight might go if he was involved in the mix.
It is during a particularly brutal fight in which the villain nearly wins that Izuku realizes a simple, but unwelcome truth about his Quirk: although his Quirk is incredibly useful for counseling therapy and diffusing difficult situations, it’s not suitable for combat. What’s he going to do, stroll up to a criminal and grab part of their body and pretend that there’s no consequences to doing so? He doesn’t fancy broken ribs, thanks. He voices as much to Katsuki over lunch, who snorts and cuffs him over the head.
“Idiot, that’s a surefire way to get your dumb fucking self killed! Learn some damn self-defense or something!” Katsuki gripes irritably, shoveling more rice into his mouth.
“Like what?” Izuku wonders. The way his Quirk works, he has to physically touch someone with one of his bare hands. It works regardless of whether his chosen target is covering their skin with clothing or not. But between the two of them, Bakugou’s always been the actual fighter. Izuku just sort of… waits for the opportunity to strike. Martial arts do involve a lot of physical contact, but it isn’t like he’s trying to hurt anyone. He wants to be a hero more than anything else, so of course his focus should be on a way to save people without injuring them. So the best arts to practice should probably center around increasing his ability to evade or somehow turn his opponent’s movement back on himself. Maybe capoeira? That would certainly help his footwork a lot. Or—
“Shut the fuck up with your damn mumbling, Deku! I’m trying to eat!” Katsuki yells, nearly throwing the remains of his onigiri at Izuku’s face.
The green-haired boy claps a hand over his mouth, sending his friend a sheepish glance. “Sorry, Kacchan,” he apologizes, ever the pacifist. Katsuki grumbles something incoherent as he violently chomps down the rest of his meal.
“Go do some fucking research, why don’t you,” he mutters, rising from his position to throw away his garbage.
So Izuku does. Aikido ends up being his first choice, simply because the basic premise is that you can subdue opponents without actively hurting them. He did consider practicing judo, but Izuku isn’t sure he has the strength to grapple, throw, and pin opponents larger than him. There is also the matter of a good deal of judo moves involving submission via pain, which isn’t his goal. So aikido it is.
Inko wholeheartedly agrees when he tells her that he wants to learn aikido so he can be a better hero. Being a Pro Hero can be dangerous at times, and for Izuku whose Quirk isn’t a battle-oriented Quirk, he needs all the skills he can get. Inko just wants to make sure her son comes home safe and sound.
She signs him up for his first aikido class a month later.
Yoshida-sensei is as stern as he is kind. Quirk usage is strictly forbidden in his dojo—it is his belief that all students training under his guidance are here to hone their physical body and strength of mind, not their gifted supernatural powers. “If you want to hone your Quirks, go to hero school,” he says gruffly. For those who had mutant-type Quirks, he stresses the importance of training themselves to rely on their physical body, not just taking advantage of what enhancements their Quirks offered them.
To Izuku’s surprise, one of the other students recognizes him when he enters. “Izuku?!” she exclaims, running over to him with wide brown eyes. “Oh my gosh, it is you! I can’t believe it!” She starts laughing, her braided black hair swinging side to side behind her.
Izuku squints at her. “Uh, do I… do I know you?” he asks hesitantly, because frankly he’s never seen her before in his life, but something about her seems very familiar.
She takes his confusion in stride. “It’s me, Suzume! Remember? You and your mom helped me find my parents when I got lost as a little kid,” she explains.
He does remember, vaguely. “Oh yeah! I made a marble out of your sadness, didn’t I? Did you keep it?” he inquires eagerly.
“Of course! I look at it every time I feel sad and I’ll think about how you cheered me up that day, and I’ll stop being sad again!” she says happily, clapping her hands together. “Let’s catch up later, okay?”
She skips back over to her group, waving once more to Izuku before she begins stretching. Izuku is happy to know that he’s got at least one friend to talk to during his lessons.
Yoshida-sensei clears his throat and launches into a quick orientation lecture on what to expect from today’s class. Izuku sits down and gives him his utmost attention. A hero like All Might didn’t become number one by slacking off, after all.
So Izuku learns his chosen martial art, and he gives away pretty trinkets in place of negative emotions, and he grows up, and he gets through junior high school with high grades, and he becomes fast friends with Shirogane Suzume, and he thanks Katsuki every time he stands up for him, and then nobody laughs when he says he wants to go to Yuuei.
Life seems to be going swimmingly for the young Midoriya.
Until the day he encounters a villain on which his Quirk doesn’t work.