Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He is dark. And warm. He is comfortable and feels safe the way he is. There is no need for anything to disrupt the current situation.

A faint muted beat reaches his ears from inside his chest - or somewhere further out probably. He doesn’t know it yet. His senses are still hazy and his head foggy. There are no boundaries here. The space is vast and empty. He stirs but does not budge. It is peaceful right now. Quiet.

When he blinks for the first time, a light is shining from afar. Like an angel it just looms in the distance. He feels no fear. The light is warm.

The light is closer now. He can feel its presence; A thread, pulsing in a soft light. Reaching towards it is an innate reaction but it does not want him yet.

Slowly he starts floating along the glowing thread, winding itself endlessly far into the vast distance. A seemingly never ending path that leads deep into the territory of the unknown.

Opening his eyes he sees the face of someone he held dearly. Tiny hands reach towards it and he stops. The thread slowly wrapping around his hands is climbing up his stubby arms, keeping him warm and safe.

Warm sunlight is spreading across the planes of his face, catches into fine strands of hair and turns green into gold. He blinks, irritated by the light, but turns around again and buries his face into his pillow to try and get a few more minutes of sleep. Unsuccessful, of course, as he can feel the constant headache already start to form and his alarm clock starts blaring.

Ugh this day is going to suck, he already knows it.

Glaring at the screaming thing, Izuku Midoriya decides today’s day would probably be worse if he did not get up in the next few minutes and his alarm woke up his mom as well. With a groan he smacks the shit out of the snooze button and works up the energy to get his ass out of bed.

Izuku frowns as he scrubs the last bit of burned food from the bottom of the pot that dried down overnight. Sighing, he quickly wipes the pot dry before storing it away in the cupboard and quickly wiping down the countertop. The self-prepared lunch lands in his backpack and the kitchen door closes in front of the piles of undone dishes.

Uncoordinated feet stumble over the floor and shaking hands scramble at the counter for purchase.

“Izuku, dear, are you sure you need that lunch? You already made breakfast, didn’t you? I mean food is expensive, and losing some weight never hurts anybody. At your age all I wanted was a nice body… Oh– and you already cleaned the dishes too... I’m such a horrible mother I can’t even care for my son.”

He sighs. ‘So it’s that kind of day.’

“I’ll be fine. I like cooking. No need to worry.”

A strained smile stretches over his face to appease his mom.

“If you say so…”

Still under the weather from yesterday, she pushes a few wine bottles — that are scattered all over the whole apartment at this point — to the side and drops onto the couch and turns on the TV.

‘At least she isn’t as over-sentimental as the day before.’ Images of Inko crying, screaming and sobbing over him saying something about her alcohol consumption flash through his head and he scowls. He won’t be doing that again…

Since Hisashi left them here, with little money in a shabby place, because it started to occur to him that his son would surely never develop a quirk after countless visits to a quirk-specialist and reaching the age of nine, Inko hasn’t been the same. Liquor and wine bottles littering their house. She wasn’t even home half of the time. And the other half she would just cling to him and cry about how bad of a mother she was.

Changing anything about her livestyle to fix it apparently never occurred to her.

Following his morning routine of the past five years, Izuku slides into the bathroom to escape the presence of his mother and the feeling of her heavy look on the back of his head.

He sighs and grabs the first aid kit from the shelf above the sink. The band aids have almost run out. He’ll have to go to the store to pick up some new ones on his way back from school sometime this week.

Repatching a scratch on his knee from being tripped down the stairs at school one too many times, applying concealer on the bruise on his cheek from being shoved against his table. Doing it often enough, it turns into just another habit, like brushing your teeth every day - when he could muster up the energy to do that anyway.

His red sneakers are his trusty companions on his way to school everyday. As worn out and damaged as they are, they hold a special place in the teenager’s heart. With his notebooks they are his most priceful possessions that he carries with him on his person everyday.

The click of the door locking on his way out was announcing the official start of the day. Past the playground he used to go to with Kacchan as kids until the visits grew too painful to bear — Izuku had an explosion shaped scar on his lower rib cage to prove that fact — as well as over the street which was rebuilt two separate times due to villain attacks in the area. Each time a villain attacked Izuku stood at the sidelines of the battle marveling at the powers the heroes possessed to combat the delinquents. He saw himself in the future doing the same noble things to save civilians.

Now he just needs to make it through school and the rest of the day. And then do that again. And again, and again…

It apparently also isn’t his best day…

He was the first in class as usual, cleaning his desk before the day from the smears of his peers.

Quirkless loser. Useless. A Deku. Freak!

Recently the insults began to grow into death threats.

Go die. No one wants you here anyway.

Izuku marveled the first time he found a spider lily on his desk. An omen of death and yet so beautiful and delicate to the touch. He had stored the flower into his bag, careful as to not dent the dainty petals. As it turned out his efforts were fruitless as Kacchan threw his bag into the pond outside the school the same day, resulting in a rain of petals as he opened his bag to look at the damage.

Izuku rests his head on the table, hiding himself from his incoming classmates. He honestly prefers the silent treatment he receives from most students and teachers. At least this way he can do what he wants instead of having to be careful, that every step he makes would result in another beating.

Over the span of the day Izuku slowly stopped paying attention. He’s tired and it isn’t like anyone would talk to him other than snide comments. He shrinks further into himself when the class grows louder and his headache worse.

“Did you hear? The Quirkless really wants to go to Yuuei, isn’t that embarrassing?”

“What, are you sure? Is that even allowed? He’d probably die during the entrance exam.”

Giggling echoes through the slowly emptying classroom after the teacher released them from their last class of the day.

The teenager in question quickly packs away his notebooks, acting as if he doesn’t hear the whispers about him. It had been a weak moment when he decided to put Yuuei down as his future school. Well that was in the past he can’t change it now.

He just needs to hurry after school. He can’t bear to be fired from another job, even if it’s underpaying. He can be happy he even managed to find one. Finding jobs in this economy as a teenager was a feat and looking at his quirk status he really got lucky, even if it’s a bit sketchy.

With heavy limbs and a heart shut off behind walls he makes his way through town. His day job is not that far away from Aldera Junior High School, but it’s still in another part of town. One where you would probably not build a school, looking at how shabby the neighbourhood there is...

The streets are getting patchier and the corners darker the further Izuku goes. Fewer and fewer street lights stand between the buildings that inch closer together the longer he walks until the buildings part and make way for the ocean.

The wind ruffels through Izuku’s hair, but he does not care to fix it. He just stays put and enjoys the moment for what it is. The sunset drowns him in golden light and breathes in the air coming from the ocean, somewhere far away. A yearning pull forms in his chest but he ignores it and moves on. This isn’t what he’s here for.

It would be a beautiful scenery if not for the tons of trash and scrap metal littering the Takoba Beach. Well cleaning up was his job after all. Honestly a shit one but at least he does something for the environment and the community, which can look good on his CV. After all he wants to be a hero right?

A deep sigh made his way out of his chest.

“Let’s get to work…”

Izuku wipes the sweat beading on his forehead and pulls the baseball cap back into his face to block out the burning sun that was trying to kill everything on this planet — even though it’s only April, What the heck? Luckily the sun was soon gonna set — promising his survival and declaring the end of his shift for the day. After a day that was filled with exhausting his social battery at school and afterwards making him physically tired by cleaning up Takoba Beach he was sure to fall asleep the moment his head hits the pillow, right?

That’s at least a pro to having a day job after school. Sure it is fucking exhausting, but he has self-earned money and can sleep at night too beat to have any anxious energy left in his body. The days he didn’t work however were a different story. Laying awake until ungodly hours of the night, worrying about small things and feeling sorry about himself. At some point he had given up going to sleep at a normal time and just sat on the roof in front of his window, listening to music and staring at the sky. Sometimes he’d rewatch his favorite All Might Movies or other documentaries about heroes and analyse their quirks, fighting styles or something else. It kept him busy from overthinking or made him feel like he was at least productive while losing sleep. Efficiency, right?

“Hey, you!”

Izuku startles out of his thoughts.

“You still have about 15 minutes of work until your shift ends. Otherwise I’ll cut your pay in half for today. I don’t pay you to just stand around and stare holes into the air, you hear me?”

He swears internally. Why did his employer come around now? Usually he’s only there to make sure they come on time and at the end of their shift to make sure they made some progress. He didn’t even know why his employer paid someone to clean up the beach. There must be something valuable enough in this heavy ass trash to have someone sort it out and carry it to the containers, standing ready in the next alley.

Sighing, he picks up his work again and starts to carry the pile of trash — that slightly resembled the microwave it once was — over the small part of the beach they already managed to clean. In front of the container in the back of the alley is currently another employee, dumping what seemed like an old cat scratching post that was falling apart, into the container. His pale purple hair catches Izuku’s attention. He didn’t see him before — must be new here.

Nodding in greeting as he passes him, Izuku notices eyebags that almost qualify as designer etched deep into the boy’s face. If these didn’t exist he would’ve looked Izuku’s age — maybe slightly older. Speculating about what the other circumstances might be that he ended up in this shitty place, Izuku carries on with his work.

Back at home he quickly changes out of his work clothes and stores the money away in the secret compartment beneath one of the shingles of the roof, directly under his window. Just a back-up in case his mom decides he is too expensive to keep and drops him off on the doorstep.

He falls face first onto his bed and decides that overthinking is a to do for future-Izuku and pulls the blanket over his head. The darkness wraps around him like a gentle hug and seconds later he is out like a light.

The next day of school doesn’t go any different than the last. He gets there early — after successfully avoiding Inko on his way out of the door — and cleans his seat of any kind of vandalization so he wouldn’t get in trouble for ‘drawing on desks’. Apparently some people thought that quirkless humans had an incredibly low IQ and didn’t even know how pens work. That fact alone made Izuku’s blood boil.

He manages to keep his peace during lunch by hiding in an empty supply closet and eating leftovers from last evening that Inko left in the kitchen. Sure they were a little burnt and oversalten but food is food.

He gets the usual silence treatment and side eyes in class, but he knows better than to let himself be bothered by it. He buries himself in his notebook, working on his Eraserhead analysis page. He had learned the school material months ago when they got their textbooks, since he didn’t really have the money for other books back then, before he got his job. So whenever he felt like reading he used to just open his textbooks on the most recent page and read whatever seemed interesting enough.

After school he went grocery shopping with the thousand yen his mother left on the kitchen table. He decided he could indulge a bit and bought an extra onigiri and a soda from the leftover money. With that his lunch was taken care of and since he knew Inko had a long shift today, he went home and got to cleaning up the kitchen before relaxing a bit in the living room, which he would usually avoid like the pest.

When the light of the low lying sun shines through the windows and blinds him, Izuku decides it’s time to go and shut himself into his room for the night, maybe he’d continue watching the documentation on a new rising star in the hero world: Mirko — some people even say she might make it in the Top 10 soon and you don’t see that many mutation quirk users in the top charts, so: interesting...

Burying himself in his quirk and history analysis — the documentation went on a very interesting sidetrack about mutation type quirks and the connected stereotypes that come with them — Izuku starts to lose track of time.

Some time after Inko had come home, Izuku hears a rattling coming from the kitchen, something that sounds like a plate breaking and then a slurred voice swearing. Something tightens in his chest and he knows if he goes out there he will regret it. Still he considers whether he’d show himself, sighs and gets up from the bed, making his way to the origin of the noise.

The scene is about what he expected, shards of a broken plate on the floor, his swaying mother trying to pick up the biggest ones and — of course — a pushed over mug that poured white wine all over the counter and the tiles on the kitchen floor.

“Just… go back to your room, Izuku dear, I’ll clean it up. You’re going to cut yourself on the shards.”

Izuku takes a look at the glass shards on the unprotected hand of his mother and goes to get the dustpan, kneeling down to take care of the mess. Taking pieces of glass out of the — from withdrawal shaking — hands of Inko and slowly pushing her to the side. Calmly he threw the shards in the trash and started to wipe up the spilled alcohol, deliberately not looking at his mother, as if she already left the room (like he told her to).

He is boiling on the inside and he doesn’t even know why. What is she doing that he is so angry? Is it that he has to take care of her, like she should take care of him? Is it that she just doesn’t see her own faults and responsibilities? Maybe that she seems so selfish, disregarding her own child after finding out that he’s quirkless and turning to alcohol to cope with the fact that her husband left her. And then acting all victim–y and pitiful when she doesn’t take care of him. He’s been doing this for fucking years goddamnit.

He knows her tears are not real.

“D-do you need anything? Food? Something to drink?”

The tear-choked voice makes hands tremble, clenched into fists, and anger constricts his throat with barbed wire. He wants to scream, to cry, to punch, scratch and cut.

‘Why why why? Isn’t she supposed to be his mother? Care for him? Why can’t she do her fucking job?’

Digging his nails into his palms, Izuku takes a silent breath, steadying his voice.

“Nah, I’m good. I just made myself a snack. But thank you.”

Without another word or looking back at her he leaves the kitchen and goes back to his room, leaving Inko standing. ‘She’s probably just crying like a fucking baby.’

Closing the door directly behind him, he leans against it and slides down to the ground.

The tears are lacing his throat shut and his whole body is vibrating with trembling anger. It’s sadly not enough to actually cry, so he takes a few shaky breaths — like usual — and presses his cool hands against his eyes.

The cold feeling spreads behind his eyes and relieves the forming headache the slightest bit.

Another crash of Inko stumbling through the living room breaks through the thin mental walls he built and shoots a spark of irrational terror through his body. He sucks in a dizzying breath.

‘I need to get the fuck out of here. How– Where– W– What do I do?’

In his frenzy of his brain being taken over by his fight or flight mechanism, his eyes fall upon his window leading out on top of the neighbors’ roof. He somehow remembers just in time to grab a jacket, his phone and his keys before he’s out on the roof and gone.

Chapter Text

The sky was rarely ever clear in Mutsutafu. Usually there was a gloomy atmosphere blanketing the city, completed by a slight hint of dampness in all cracks and crevices. But for once the sky cleared up. While the last hints of the setting sun were still illuminating part of the vast space above Izuku’s head, the city itself was already shrouded in darkness. The missing sun served only the chilly atmosphere of early May and Izuku was glad he had thought to bring a jacket in his frenzy to get out of the house.

He squashes his face into his knees and takes a shaky breath. Why did he overreact that much? It’s not like anything major happened… It was a broken glass for fuck’s sake! There is no reason for the house to feel so much like being trapped in a cage with a wild animal to hunt him down and yet…

He gets pulled out of his thoughts by the neighbour’s cat jumping onto the frail metal of the roof and making a not so reassuring creaking sound. Izuku makes sure that he won’t crash into some stranger’s garage before pspsps-ing over to the cat. To his disappointment it just ignores him and jumps from the roof onto the alley behind the garages and starts to dig through the trash, presumably looking for something to eat.

That reminds him of his missing dinner and he makes a plan for his evening. He goes through his secret stash beneath the windowsill of his room and grabs some money and a face mask. It’s probably not too nice to go through this part of town looking like a 12-year-old boy with his baby cheeks. He was already 15, for crying out loud.

Slipping silently off the roof, like the cat earlier he starts his walk to the nearest corner store.

After wandering through some sketchy back alleys and encountering some people where he just kept his head low and his vision to the ground With his hood up and looking through the lacking product range of eatable snacks that won’t send you into a sugar shock, he suddenly notices something that catches his eyes in his peripheral vision.

Grabbing some sweet buns off the shelf, he sets out on his nightly entertainment. Looking around the shelf into the next aisle he sees that he didn’t see wrong. There he was, pale purple hair, a dark hoodie and the darkest circles under the eyes you would find in this whole city (even beating Eraserhead’s and that says a lot!) — the other guy working at his shady dayjob.

Totally unsuspicious, Izuku slips into the same aisle and slowly follows the other guy. Usually he would have shat his pants at the mere thought of getting closer to a stranger in public than 5 meters but the receding adrenaline from the situation with Inko left him exhausted and late nights made him reckless. Alas he confidently walks past the purple head and heads to the refrigerator to pick out his energy drink for the night.

From the new vantage point he watches as the guy pays for his snacks (instant coffee at this hour? — but who was he to judge, he’s buying an energy drink at 11pm in the evening) and decides to form the queue behind him. He gets a weird look from lilac hair — since literally no one else is in the store at this hour and he decides to pay at the same time as him? — but there was no comment so Izuku’s sleep deprived brain comes to the conclusion that it’s probably fine. He follows lilac hair out of the store before deciding that he would strike up a conversation because otherwise it’d definitely be too awkward to ever remember this.

“I- uhm” Fuck, his voice is still weak from earlier. And lilac hair is now staring at him. Doesn’t matter he’s doing this now.

“You are the other guy working at Takoba Beach, aren’t you? I mean I saw you and thought I recognized you, so I thought I could strike up a conversation, even though we never really talked before. I just wanted to know why you’d also work at such a shabby place and… Wait, did I confuse you with someone else? I am so sorry it’s just…”

“No you’re right. That’s me.” Lilac hair interrupts Izuku’s rambling and an awkward silence fills the space between them.

Izuku fidgets with the plastic bag from the store, wrecking his brain for something to say. After the first push to start a conversation his confidence in his social skills rapidly decreased. Lilac hair hesitates for a second before opening his mouth.

“I don’t have anything better to do at this time and you also bought something for dinner. Let’s sit down and eat. Maybe we can talk over food.”

It isn’t posed as a question but somehow sounds like one.

Izuku thinks for a second — he can still do that, even with as little sleep as he had, what a surprise — and concludes that the other guy most likely wasn’t a threat who wanted to kill a 15-year-old and nodded in agreement.

“Soooo, you’re my age? I never would have guessed. I mean, you look so much older…”

“I suppose I do…”

The other boy, Shinsou, Izuku learned, is really not the talkative type. While he might have started to feel more comfortable talking to someone his age, Shinsou spoke in short sentences and only contributed to the conversation by answering Izuku’s questions. Well everybody has their quirks — or don’t, looking at himself: quirkless, but that’s not a spiral Izuku is willing to go down right now.

“Do you want to become a hero, Shinsou?” He is doing his very best to keep this conversation alive, thank you very much.

“Yeah, but not one in the spotlight. An underground hero, like Eraserhead.”

That’s the most honest answer Izuku had gotten the entire night, but before he could ask why an underground hero specifically, a phone started ringing. Shinsou hastily digs through his pockets and picks up with an apologetic look in Izuku's direction.

The voice on the other end of the phone call sounds pissed. They’re yelling about something Izuku can’t make out and all he can do is watch Shinsou slowly sink into himself and mumble quiet apologies with some ‘yes’s and ‘no’s sprinkled in between.

A couple minutes later Shinsou hangs up the phone and lets out a sigh.

“I- uh- have to go.. See you around, I guess.”

And within seconds he had his stuff and was around the next corner. Izuku looked after the other guy, before looking back down at his food. He hadn’t touched the milk buns one bit. He was so caught up trying to keep the conversation alive, that he hadn’t taken one bite. He hadn't even taken off his hood or mask. He must have looked like such a creep. He didn’t even tell the poor guy his own name, since he didn’t ask. He didn’t ask question in general, now that Izuku thinks about it. Strange…

He groans frustrated and buries his face into his hands, his face burning with embarrassment.

School really fucking sucks. Why would you put a bunch of hormonally unstable teenagers into one room and expect them to get along?

He has a headache from the lack of sleep last night, everything is too noisy and too loud. Maybe he should have stayed home today. Although then he’d have to deal with drunk- Inko and that is probably even more exhausting. And if he skipped school he’d probably be expelled. Aldera Middle School really doesn't have any tolerance for quirkless people and blames him for everything.

He just wants a break for once in his miserable fucking life right now…

“Did you hear? The Quirkless really wants to go to Yuuei, isn’t that embarrassing?”

“What, are you sure? Is that even allowed? He’d probably die during the entrance exam.”

The teenager in question quickly packs away his notebooks, acting as if he doesn’t hear the whispers about him. It had been a weak moment when Izuku decided to put Yuuei down as his future school. Well that was in the past — can’t change it now.

He just needs to hurry after school. He can’t bear to be fired from another job, especially since he and Shinsou are now … — he thinks for a second — acquainted was probably the best word.

Boom!

A hand explodes on his table, adding another burn mark to the desk. The loud noise sends a sharp pain through his skull and he pulls his shoulders up, trying to make him look as small as possible.

“H-hey Kacchan… What are you doing here…?”

“Do you really think you could make it to Yuuei!? You really think they’d let someone like you in while they could have me?”

“I-i’m not trying to compete against you. I- Y-you’ve got it all wrong!”

He really doesn’t have the energy to argue with Kachan right now. He just can’t do this anymore… His head is killing him.

“Great heroes always show potential early on. You just know that they’re destined for greatness. That’s what people will say about me when I get into Yuuei. But you? You’re just pathetic.”

‘Can this guy shut his ego trap for once in his life?’

A way too hot hand settles on the green haired boy’s shoulder, slowly singing through his school uniform. The searing pain shoots through his right arm down to the fingertips, making them tingle like water dripping down his arm.

“Let me give you a word of advice, Deku.”

Izuku’s nerves are on fire. He can’t really feel anything where the hand sits anymore. Is this the way his former childhood friend is talking to him now?

“Don’t even try to apply to Yuuei.”

His brain screeches to a halt as the explosion from the hand on his shoulder throws him against the windowsill. He barely feels the way his spine scratches along the ridge, numb by the burning in his right shoulder. He feels as if everything turned impossibly quiet but the high ringing in his ears. He barely even registers the next words being said to him.

“Just pray that you’ll be born with a quirk in your next life and take a swan dive off the roof of the building.”

Something inside him breaks at that moment. He had endured enough of Kacchan’s - No - Bakugo’s bullying in his life. He can’t go on like this anymore.

He had looked up to him all his childhood, like his own personal hero. But he was only used as an ego boost and then as an entertaining punching bag. If he gives up on Bakugou as a friend now, that wouldn’t be a bad thing, would it? He can almost feel all of the scars on his body and the numbness in his right shoulder. For somebody who he thought was his hero, he was pretty fucking beat up by that so called ‘hero’.

At some point Izuku realizes that he’s stumbling in the direction of his day job, even though he can’t really feel his body. The adrenaline making his open wound on his shoulder burn. How did he even get out of school? Just about bearable but surely just because it nums everything around him. He knows it has to be at least second degree burns- most likely even third degree. But does he have the money for a doctor?

He can’t even work right now to earn it. Manual labor was the only job direction that would accept him. No doubt only because they didn’t even ask for his quirk status. It’s a bit shady afterall… Mom doesn’t know that he works there or simply doesn’t care enough. Money is money…

He heaves for air and his open shoulder tingles. Most likely starting to get infected. With this he surely isn’t able to gather all the trash from Taoka Beach. The sigh Izuku lets out sends another shock through his shoulder. If he would just give up…

Bakugo’s words come to mind. It wasn’t like he hasn’t thought about it before. Until now there has always been a part of him that dreamed of becoming a hero, like Katsuki once was to him, like All Might.

No, No. Wrong thinking Izuku! He can still do this. There are heroes who fight almost quirkless so he can be one too right?

He had analyzed any hero’s fighting style to determine if he can recreate it in a way that supports his quirklessness. There are many heroes who can’t always use their quirk in every battle, who are still plenty strong. Like Eraserhead. He is a super cool hero that levels almost every battle field even though he isn’t a top hero…

A shadow falls onto Izuku’s face while he’s caught up in his thoughts. Green slime starts to pour around his ankles, climbing up his legs and starting to encapsulate him. A sharp pain overtakes the tissue around the burn on his shoulder as it starts to invade the open wound. Slowly the slime starts to take over his respiratory tract and cuts off his breathing.

“You’ll make the perfect skin suit, so don’t worry. I’ll just take over your body…”

The surroundings start to swim away from him as less and less oxygen reaches his brain. ‘I can’t breathe…’ He couldn’t even think of using his damaged right arm to defend himself and the left one wouldn’t reach the one weakness of this villain; the eyes.

“It’ll only hurt for a quick minute if you stop resisting now”

Izuku’s body starts to grow sluggish and he goes lax. Drifting into a black and pleasantly quiet void that actually feels pretty nic-

“I AM HERE”

A rattling breath makes him feel light headed and the feeling of asphalt scraping over the skin of his back makes him wince. He digs his elbows into the ground to push himself up and blinks against the bright sky to the person standing above him.

“ALMOST THOUGHT WE LOST YOU THERE”

The loud voice booms through the small street and leaves a ringing in Izuku’s ears. He recognized the voice from somewhere…wait…

“All Might?!”

“YOUR AUTOGRAPH HAS BEEN PLACED. NOW I HAVE TO GO”

In a scramble Izuku dives for his now priceless notebook and cradles it in his arms. It is everything he ever dreamed of as a kid. Somehow it doesn’t seem like the situation has the impact it should have… Still, there was something he had to get off his chest.

“All Might…”

“NOW, A HERO HAS DUTIES TO ATTEND”

No, no, no this is important. He stumbles forward reaching for the hero in naive hope to get another moment.

“I… Can I still become a hero even- even without a quirk?”

This seems to throw off the hero. And the everlasting smile on All Might’s face appears to strain.

“THIS JOB IS A TOUGH ONE, YOU NEED TALENT AND STRENGTH TO PURSUE SUCH A CAREER”

And with that he is gone.

The green haired boy stood left alone in the alley, empty and hopeless.

A no… that was a definite No.

He turns around and picks up his bag. He could still feel the slime in the back of his throat. He wants to vomit. Instead he just leaves.
He goes away. Away from the alley. Away from his job, the school, the bullies, Bakugo, Mom… everything. He is exhausted. He needs a break.

Katsuki scoffs and kicks a bottle across the ground. It slithers a few meters over the asphalt until it crashes against the alley wall.

“I heard you and the nerd were friends as kids, that true?”

The two extras tagging after him were annoying him the whole day like always. They probably just want something from his popularity. Always would they brag about his quirk because they couldn’t do the same with their own.

“As if I would ever be friends with that quirkless freak.”

“Don’t you think that guy isn’t worth your time? I mean he’s a nobody”

“Yeah he is. That why he needs to get that shit into his fucking skull.”

The two behind him snicker and elbow each other.

“I bet he’ll be dead by college, or still living with his mom because no one would want him.”

“Oh that poor mother, she probably doesn’t even want a quirkless as a child.”

Katsuki rolls his eyes at the antics of the other boys. There was a time when he might have stood up for the nerd but that was long gone. After years of him acting all high and mighty, like he was better than Katsuki even without a quirk. Tsk. Annoying.

“Uh d-dude..”

“Y-yeah Bakugo maybe you should t-take a look”

A slick sound echoes through the alleyway and a huge shadow falls on his face. He stumbles back and tries to assess the situation. A villain, in the middle of the city. He looks around frantically. No hero was around, no help coming. What was he supposed to do?

His explosions light up the walls around him but soon die out as they’re swallowed by green slime that makes its way into Katsuki’s mouth and nose. In a frenzy he tries to pry the slime away from his face and fights the urge to vomit at the musky scent that envelopes his lungs.

Stumbling in the direction of his home, Izuku lets his mind drift to distract himself from the pain in his shoulder. If he manages to go on for just about a year of high school he’ll be free. He for sure won’t be going to Yuuei High, that’s guaranteed, but that’s also a good thing. It means he is very likely not going to be a part of Bakugo’s future class. Don’t all people always say how much better high school is? That sure is something to look forward to. If he can make it till then…

An explosion pulls him out of his thoughts. He knows these explosions. Very well even. Too well.

He runs — more like limps — in the direction he heard the sounds from. There’s no way Bakugo would use his quirk outside of school and risk being caught by a patrolling hero which would destroy his chance of getting into Yuuei.

The sight around the next corner is gruesome. In the middle of the road is the villain that attacked him not even an hour ago. Around it various heroes make sure that crowding civilians are kept in safety.

Why isn’t anyone helping? Bakugo was clearly suffering.

Pushing through the wall of people he bumps into an on duty hero that instructs everyone to stay back.

“I- Why is no one helping?!”

“There is no hero available with a suitable quirk to deal with the situation yet,” The hero explains.

Izuku’s eyes lock onto the eyes of the slime. He was able to grab them when he was suffocating, wasn’t he? ’No hero available my ass…’

The boy finds himself running. Again. But this time it isn’t by choice. He is pushed by some civilian in a panic and right then his decision is made for him. The backpack he had on his person almost all the time is sailing through the air, the corner of his notebooks digs into the eyeball surrounded by slime and right after it Izuku tries to dig his fingers into the body. To no avail of course.

‘What could a useless Deku like him do in this situation?’

Distantly Izuku feels hot tears roll down his face. It was painful. The adrenaline is helping only slightly with the pain in his shoulder and each movement of his arm feels like a hot dagger stabbing into his body. His vision is darkening around the edges and all his focus lies on getting the villain away from Bakugou and creating even a fraction of a moment for the other boy to breathe. Slowly but surely the feeling in his limbs fades and the world seems to be pulled away from him, leaving him floating in a vast void of nothingness.

“Hey. Hello~ someone in there?”

Izuku squints against the lights. A face is obscuring the expansive blue of the sky above him. The face of a hero. The green haired boy jumps to his feet. Or at least tries to before he gets stopped by said hero still crouching next to him. A good choice really. Even while still sitting his head is spinning due to the fast movement.

“Woah, slow down there you just passed out.”

“Right…my bad”

He looks around to orient himself. Where is Bakugou and what the hell happened to him? From what it looks like the villain was long gone but you can’t be too careful. The street is littered with debris from where the asphalt was broken up by explosions and a big impact caused a hole in the street. Who did that?

“You know that was really reckless of you. You can’t just go jump into a full blown villain fight-”

“Oi, Deku! All Might was already there when you fainted like a baby. You were useless. I didn’t need the help of a quirkless freak like you!”

The hero’s eyebrows pinched together.

“You’re quirkless? You know how dangerous that was? You almost got into All Might’s way and you couldn’t even do anything!”

’It’s not like any of you were doing anything! Would you just have watched from the sidelines as a middle schooler died?’

He was seriously at his limit. This was fucked up.

’Useless. Quirkless. Freak. Take a swan dive off the roof of a building.’

They really want him gone, don’t they? Hell, he’s a waste of space and even gets in the way of the heroes. Even All Might doesn't think that he’s capable of being a hero.

With quick muttered apologies he excuses himself from the scene. His throat is burning almost as much as his shoulder and his vision is blurred with tears. He had accepted it but that doesn’t mean it’s any less painful. This system is fucked, no one wants him around without a quirk and all the suicide statistics of quirkless people speak for themselves. And this is the day, he decides, he loses the energy to fight against the statistics and gives in.

In Katsuki’s stomach is swirling a cocktail of mixed emotions, he barely manages to swallow down. Had he really been that useless, that quirkless Deku had to jump in to help him? Katsuki wasn’t dumb. Despite what he said, he knows that the only reason he survived this whole shit was the few seconds of air the nerd provided, before the No. 1 hero jumped in to save the day.

Deku always had to really rub it in. That he was so much better than him despite his lack of quirk. How he was always greeting him with an obnoxious smile and a “Hi Kacchan!” in the morning. And now he just had to jump in and save his fucking life. A toxic mix of shame and anger was burning through his body setting his nerves on fire.

He was freed from the paramedics as soon as it became apparent that he had no serious injuries and is now wandering the streets back home. The old hag would surely be mad but he’ll be able to deal with it. Pretty sure the media won’t tell about a quirkless kid saving someone so he could talk himself out of a scolding about being the strongest somehow…

With his hands stuffed into his pockets he closes his eyes, leans his head back and takes a deep breath of air. If it hadn’t been for that stupid piece of quirkless shit he wouldn’t be able to do that right now. A determination spread through his body. Like this he couldn’t apply to Yuuei, he would never become the best hero. He would train as hard as he could and become the best fucking hero the world has ever seen.

With conviction sparking in his eyes, like the explosions in his hands he looks up into the clear sky and … freezes.

Up on the building, maybe 6 stories above him, a small scrawny boy sat at the edge with his green hair forming a dark spot against the bright sky.

And maybe he made quite a few wrong choices while growing up, treating his childhood best friend, maybe he was a hypocrite and weak minded for seeing someone follow his advice and taking what he said for word (and wasn’t that a thought, everything he said until now, the nerd actually believed?) or maybe Deku was just that much more brave and better than him because Katski turned around and ran.

Looking down 20 meters is something Izuku never thought he would do without fear. His whole life he spent being afraid. His fear may have been in the form of a spider in the corner of the kitchen behind his fridge or a certain boy he spent his childhood with before he started being thrown around like a punching bag.

“You were useless.”

Right… Like all his life. He’s been useless. He got in the way of many pro heroes and even All Might. The No.1 hero had to save him since he wasn’t able to get away from the sickening slime villain. It’s been the same all his life. He has been a burden to his mother all the years. Maybe she’d be happily married to his father right now. That bastard wouldn’t have fucked off if it weren’t for Izuku and his quirklessness.

Hell, everyone would have been better off if he never existed…

Well he can still change that.

The stupid red shoes that have constricted his stupid quirkless feet with the additional toe joint for years are left somewhere behind him. In what feels like a haze he stumbles forward to the edge. Like hypnotized he reaches forward and pulls himself up onto the ledge, his eyes locked onto the ground far beneath him. In the gentle air he feels the safest he ever felt since the doctor said he was quirkless.

He closed his eyes and — with a smile on his lips — fell.

Chapter Text

The dark void is back. Comforting and all consuming. It feels like he is sleeping, floating through space. Is he though? It seems a bit too… vast, for this place to be in his dreams. He is alone, but not lonely. This space provided comfort, not a fear of the unknown. Somehow he knows that he is safe here.

The feeling of safety seems to come from the winding web of threads he finds himself in. It doesn’t constrain him, just keeps him together so he doesn’t break into a hundred pieces and has to bear all his vulnerabilities to the world.

But then he notices; the web of warm glowing threads starts to fall apart. The knots get looser and the ends are fading into the darkness, losing their glow. He somehow knows if he loses this web there is not coming back from this place.

He reaches towards the ends and is surprised that he can actually grab onto the fading ends. The damaged threads seem to still be moving and pulsing with life. Like this is what he was born for, he finds the other part of the broken end and starts splicing them back together. Connecting thread to thread, string to string until the web feels whole again.

He can feel the flow of energy circulating through the fixed web. Satisfied he closes his eyes and decides it’s time to rest after his hard work. The feeling of the warm, protective web around him lulls him back into a dreamless sleep.

His head is killing him. Which is ironic honestly, since he is supposed to be dead, and since when can you kill a dead person? And since when do dead people have headaches?

Slowly his awareness of his surroundings expands further than his throbbing headache and he can feel the concrete beneath his back and digging into his spine. His hands felt wet and he could hear the faint murmur of cars in the distance.

Fuck, being dead really feels like shit. Who said this was supposed to be salvation again?

A rattling pulls him out of the void that were his spiraling thoughts and he groans as he tries to open his eyes. They felt like they were glued shut with grease and the stuff that you find in the corner of your eye after having the best sleep of your life. Groggily, Izuku rubs his hands across his face and sits up.

The first thing he notices is a cat rummaging through the trash bins surrounding him. Isn’t that the neighbour’s cat, he always saw strolling over the garages from his window?

The second thing he notices is the fact that the sun was up. But not how he last remembers it, low and dipping everything into gold – no – this is the burning heat of the sun high in the sky mid-day. He was out for… at least almost a whole day! Scrambling to his feet, Izuku tries to locate himself and figure out his surroundings.

It seems like he crashed into some backyard. He doesn’t recognize it directly, but it looks just like the one behind the garages outside his window, so he decides he can’t be far from home. The puddle of blood in the middle looks concerningly large for him to be walking around right now. That’s a problem to worry about later. Right now he needs to do something against this dizzying and vision blurring headache. Taking another nap for a day or two sounds like a good idea, but the thought of encountering his drunken mother right now leaves his hands trembling in anxiety.

He decides to pull his hoodie over his head to block out the light, shoulders his yellow backpack and sets off to the next convenience store for something to drink, a snack and maybe some aspirin.

There’s some light green flickering in his peripheral vision when he looks down at his body, but that’s probably nothing. Maybe a side effect from his slowly failing circulation. Wow – he really needs to get his blood sugar back up.

He stares at the newspaper in front of him, feeling like someone just hit him over the head. He stumbled across the stack of papers in front of the convenience store and decided to buy it for the hero pictures to glue inside his notebooks later.

The quick snack earlier and the following increase in blood sugar did wonders for his headache, as well as the nap he took afterwards in a park close by. He decided to flip through the local news, while taking another painkiller and eating the rest of his food. The slowly fading headache helped him while trying to reorganize his thoughts until his head felt clearer. That still didn’t make what he saw before him any less bewildering.

The first shock was the date on top of the page. Apparently he had been out for about three days. Three goddamn days! No wonder he felt like dogshit after waking up. Disregarding the fact that he woke up again for some fucked up reason.

The second shock was a small article discreetly hidden on the very last page and the fact that his own face stared back at him. He probably would have missed it if it wasn’t for his passphoto catching his attention from the farthest corner of the page. The article read:

Izuku Midoria Dead

The 15 year-old quirkless boy was reported to have committed suicide last Friday by an anonymous eye witness. The body hasn’t been found at the calculated place of impact. Police’s theory is that underground organizations took his body for unknown purposes (not an unregular occurrence with bodies of quirkless individuals). There are no comments from relatives or associates.

So he was dead. Like dead dead. Like he had a file at the police station that probably had a huge red ‘DEAD’ stamped across it. What the fuck.

But that doesn’t explain what happened at all. How is he still alive after actually jumping? Who reported the suicide? And did his mother already notice his absence? She’s probably drunk and they didn’t interact that often so maybe she hasn’t noticed yet?

A thousand questions whirled through his head. But one thought was clear in the front: This isn’t too bad. Everyone thinks he’s dead so technically he can just lay low and doesn’t have to deal with the life he left up on that roof. He might have to get into his house one last time to get some clothes and the money from his secret stash. As long as he doesn’t take too much, Inko probably won’t notice. She was never good at noticing details like that.

With that plan in mind Izuku made his decision. Living on the streets couldn’t be worse than the life he had before, right?

His window is still open from the morning he left for school. He left it open just in case Inko would already be home and occupying the living room, and would not want to go past her. So climbing back on the garages and entering his room is no issue.

The space Izuku called his home until now, looks like it always has. Technically clean, just a pile of undone washing, he hadn’t found the time to do, in the corner, his plants thriving on the windowsills – a pity that he has to leave all that behind. His room was only ever really the one place he felt comfortable. He could make this space his own. Everywhere else everyone else always took the charge, here he is his own person. As long as his mother doesn’t suddenly appear in the door frame or sits at his table while he is trying to read in his bed or sits on the floor and complains about her ‘oh so horrible’ life. He doesn’t fucking owe her the feeling of being a good mother, while she’s the one fucking it up.

He breathes in through his nose and unclenches his hands. He can do this. He just needs to gather some things and then he is the fuck out of here and will never see her again.

Carefully, as to not accidentally move stuff around and reveal that he was here, he moves over to his wardrobe and digs through the bottom drawer. There beneath his hoodies is his collection of notebooks. While he carries the most recent one with him on his person all the time, the rest stay here, gingerly hidden from prying eyes. Not that there is anything secret inside – all his analysis was pretty obvious and superficial, thought Izuku — but it was embarrassing and meant a lot to him.

A key turning in the lock of the front door jostles him out of his thoughts. Inko is home. And Izuku in his room, while supposedly dead. Fuck. He could basically see her presence through the door as she walked right past his room on her way to the toilet. Like fine threads whispering to him, reaching for him through the door, just as desperate as Inko herself. Tense and unmoving, Izuku waits until the footsteps find their way back into the living room and the strange feeling vanishes.

In a quiet rush he gathers the notebooks, and grabs a jacket from the bottom of his wardrobe that no one will probably notice is missing. He silently gets out of his bloody hoodie, stuffing it into his backpack and switches it for the zip up.

With everything he needs and the cash from his stash beneath the windowsill in his pocket, Izuku takes one last look at his room. He’s sure he is going to miss it. The space where he started his first hero analysis, where he cried himself to sleep many nights between his many stuffed toys, where he spent his whole childhood. He is grown up now, he decides. He can do his laundry, he earns his own money and now he’s officially dead.

With a face mask covering his face and the hood covering his hair, he turns his back on the room once and for all. Behind the door he can hear his mother break a plate. He tenses up but then he leaves and he is long gone. Never coming back.