Chapter Text
Tremors rocked the prefecture Friday night. Startling Izuku awake whenever he could clear his mind enough to begin drifting off. Perhaps it was karmic retribution for Akatani manipulating the librarian lady’s sympathy for him.
But it wasn’t even those selfish actions that weighed on his mind. No, how could he concern himself with a woman whose name a dead boy never bothered to remember? Someone who shouldn’t have bothered with a hopeless kid in the first place.
What stopped Izuku from relaxing was not the misshapen mattress that made up his bed or the bundle of blankets with too many holes for anyone else to want. It was a pair of scenes he had caught a glimpse of as he made his way back to his home moving from alley to alley.
The first was the smoldering remains of a series of collapsed buildings. Soot covered the clothes of the first responders who were there to pull out body after body from the ruins of a building; he had stood there, watching. Waiting for something he wasn’t sure of. The bodies didn’t stop being pulled from the ruins of some kind of residential building.
Not a single survivor from what Izuku could see from where he stood peeking from around the corner; he expected that it would stop. That the rows of covered corpses would stop multiplying. One, two, four, eight, SIXTEEN…He’d been waiting for it to stop, by the time he had left, it hadn’t.
Soon after passing that sight, Izuku crossed a larger street to reach the next series of back roads and caught a glimpse of a group of protesters. He wouldn’t have known what the group was doing, or maybe had missed them entirely if it weren’t for the signs they carried saying in bold red lettering:
WHERE ARE THE HEROES?
Others read:
WE NEED MORE HEROES!
TELL US WHO KILLED ALL MIGHT!
There hadn’t been many in the group, only a couple dozen, but the presence of a group of people putting themselves out in the open was a bold statement. A few signs carried two sayings Izuku couldn’t stop thinking about:
ANYONE CAN BE A HERO
QUIRKS DON’T MAKE THE HERO
Izuku had the itching thought that those were far more intentional in their message than the others. It had been a mystery if there was any depth to that message until Izuku arrived home and he could use his computer.
They turned out to be famous quotes of All Might’s. Now, they've been repurposed as slogans by organizations advocating for radical deregulation of the hero industry. The kind that would allow not only those with less physically-oriented quirks or odd mutations a path into heroics. But also the quirkless.
Since the day before, these protesters marched from different parts of Musutafu to meet in front of the city’s Hero Public Safety Commission office. And Musutafu was the only city where the demonstrations were taking place.
The response so far had been absolute silence from the Commission, major news networks, and large hero agencies. Although in the last 36 hours, the Commission had increased their publicized discouragements of large gatherings. Citing the fact that they’re easy targets for villains and would put the heroes at an even larger disadvantage if they became hostages.
They’re right. Izuku thought, but they have to be waiting to see if this will pick up any momentum. These protests bring up uncomfortable subjects for the Commission, so they are stopping everyone with a large audience from bringing any more attention to it.
Izuku rolled over in his bed. The tremors were an alarm reminding him of these thoughts and reminding the city with every shake that the heroes were indeed, greatly underprepared to function without All Might’s influence.
Too many villains were acting with a degree of confidence not seen in decades to be kept in check by now exhausted hero agencies and police departments. And the Sogai Zai were being bold, still blowing buildings and people up. But to what end?
WE NEED MORE HEROES!!! But the Commission will not have quirkless heroes. These protesters are so stupid.
After over a dozen attempts and failures to fall asleep, Izuku gave up on getting any rest. And he had to get his mind on a different subject. There was no reason to uselessly lie in bed when plans for the future had to be remade.
Moving to the front of the bus, grabbing a notebook and pen, and when he moved to flick the lights on Izuku passed through a ray of light from the moon and he saw a shiny smear of red on the notebook and dripping off the pen. He dropped them as he took in the state of his hand. Oh, this. I forgot about this…Oh no…how could I forget about this?
He had shredded his hand while digging around the glassy spot in the sand created by the punch that blew up his right arm.
How did I not notice even as I washed my clothes? Did I just not register that it hurt? Izuku didn’t want to think how much pain the state of his hand would cause a normal person.
Blood had soaked through the bandages and was dripping onto everything. SHOOT. Now that he was paying attention to the injury he noticed the whispering pain more than before, but it could still easily be ignored. It’s part of a continuing trend. Izuku noted to himself. My quirk has screwed with my pain tolerance.
What was most alarming was that he’d immediately forgotten about the injury after wrapping it. Not noticing the pain didn’t make it less of a serious injury. Izuku tried to peel off the wrapping, using his teeth to bite at one end. When he tugged the bandages hardly moved, they were glued to his skin with sticky half-dried blood. He couldn’t loosen them like this without risking opening the cuts even further.
Grabbing a recently refilled water bottle, Izuku left the bus to pour it over the bandages and loosen them. Which, as he sat in the cool sand, he realized performing this task wouldn’t be easy with one hand.
Placing the uncapped bottle between his feet and maneuvering them to pour water over his hand wasted a lot more water than he would have liked. Get over it. You have to treat this immediately because you forgot about it you imbecile.
Izuku found the end of the bandage again, bit on the tip with his teeth, and slowly began moving his hand around to unwrap it. It probably hurt, he couldn’t really tell, so he tried to be extra careful to not pull at the skin and reopen the cuts. Once uncovered, they still oozed blood. They needed stitches.
Izuku laid back on the sand, keeping his hand elevated. I can’t attempt stitches with my hand when it's that one hand that needs to be stitched. The fancy bandage-stitches were not something he could afford or even access if he had the money. He certainly wouldn’t bleed out or anything, but he was already at risk of infection after forgetting about the injury. I don't want to get sick. I don’t want to risk that.
Tears filled his eyes. Making the stars visible above his clearing blur together.
I don’t want to use my quirk either. It hurts.
…Izuku used it anyways. Using his quirk to coat his hand in light. Better this than sick from an infection.
The pain of his hand being sliced and stabbed was magnified to be incomparably worse than the original injury, and his brain couldn’t comprehend such drawn-out agony. So as if he was having a seizure, Izuku’s body thrashed in the form of violent writhing in the sand.
In an attempt to preserve some feeling in his hand, Izuku had attempted to use as little power as he could physically muster to try and heal the cuts to the point of no longer needing stitches and no more. This had worked somewhat, still healing far more than necessary to no longer require stitches, and the process left every surface of his body slick with sweat.
His muscles were spent far past their limits. Izuku was not interested in figuring out what efforts it would take to move. Every part of him that could still feel ached from his bones out to his skin. Which, was largely numb, and had been scratched all over by the sand when he had been thrashing around.
Why is it that the only time I feel anything is when I’m in pain? What did I do to be punished with a quirk like this? Surely dying would be better? It has to be. It has to be better than this.
The occasional passing of the breeze caused Izuku’s clothing to ruffle. It was the only movement in the clearing at first, but that changed quickly as Izuku began to shiver. On one hand, the cold was of little consequence, on the other, the involuntary shaking caused by muscles already far beyond their limits created a horrifically unique type of pain.
Dear God, please make it stop. Hot tears left frosty tracks on Izuku’s face. He stared up at the sky.
The stars and the moon’s face stared down at him, deaf to his silent pleas.
In time, the shaking died off, Izuku’s muscles could no longer be forced to move, not even for survival. Except before the cold could set in and finally kill him, his quirk intervened.
The buzzing ignited internal flames of energy that would keep his body from shutting down. Izuku’s body screamed in protest, it was unnatural. His mind could not comprehend it as anything other than unnatural agony as his body began to be forcibly shaken. Why does it do this? For what purpose? To stop itself from dying with me? For what selfish end?
The thoughts tearing at Izuku’s mind were confused and contradictory. Do I want to die, or do I want to continue surviving? Or is death simply the only escape my mind can find to stop this pain? Is my quirk doing this out of a mind of its own or does this stem from my natural instinct to survive? Both? Why do I fight so hard to stay alive? For what?
All of this for what any average person would expect as the bare minimum in their life?
Izuku had been doomed to not be normal from the start—at least from the start five years ago that he remembered.
Although, for now, these thoughts mattered little.
This hellish pain would not subside unless he got out of the cold. But before heading back into the bus Izuku ran his hand through the sand. The feeling was muted, individual grains impossible to discern. Even at his fingertips. The only substantial sign he held anything was the weight of the grains. He could sense even less than before.
Izuku stopped to begin dragging himself through the sand to go back inside, the burning of his quirk was the only thing that kept him moving. Once inside, Izuku brushed himself off and sat down inside to clean the much shallower cuts. What was left required little more than band-aids.
I’ll deal with the blood and sand later. Back to my plans. Izuku slumped into his seat, arranging the notebook and pen on the desk to begin writing.
It was immediately clear that his plans faced a critical problem. Money. Every step that took him closer to starting a new normal life would cost more than the last. I have no answer to that. There isn’t a solution this time.
In a notebook Izuku wrote out all his problems in his ugly and slow scrawl:
- I am deaf
- I am crippled
- I am homeless
- I have no identity
- Not a fake one
- Not a real one
There was so much wrong with him. The more he wrote, the faster tears fell onto the paper.
- I am numb
- No one can help me
- No one would help me
- I can't communicate
- I don’t know who I am
- I have a quirk I can’t control
- I CAN’T GET A JOB LIKE THIS
The list continued. Izuku only realized he had been sobbing onto the pages when he saw the smeared ink all over his writing. He stopped; his hand had been shaking so badly most of the writing had turned illegible—even in sections without the smears.
Izuku’s body trembled with the ground below him. With the entire prefecture. When Izuku moved to continue writing; his hand hit the paper. The pen was no longer in his grip. He’d dropped it at some point he couldn’t recall.
When Izuku leaned to grab it from under the desk it fumbled from his grip again. I can’t even hold a pen. He collapsed from his seat. Curling up on the floor. Heaving breaths were the only thing that broke through the silent sobs.
Can I even live a normal life like this? …Of course I could. I could. I have to. I HAVE TO. I have to I have to I have to I have to I have to I have to I have to I have to. I DON’T WANT TO GO BACK TO A LIFE THAT ISN’T NORMAL. I CAN’T DO THAT. I WON’T DO THAT.
I WON ’T GO BACK.
I HAVE TO LIVE A NORMAL LIFE. IT 'S WORTH THE PAIN!
IT ’S WORTH THE PAIN!
RIGHT?
With these thoughts, the buzzing of his quirk came flooding back. Slipping as a wave does through the sand to wash away any trace of Izuku’s defenses.
The sickly green lightning flickered around him again. He was going to die; he knew it. He was going to die right now. His quirk would finally kill him.
I didn ’t want this! I didn’t want this quirk. Why would this happen to me? DO I HAVE ANY SAY IN THE MATTER?
The energy inside him increased from an internal buzz to vibrating his body, to shaking him externally. Rattling his bones. If only he could push this energy out. Then, he could lessen the strain the energy put on his bones and organs and every part of his body. But that had cost him an arm last time. This cursed energy continued compressing inside of him to make room for even more to pour in.
It wouldn’t stop. I WANT IT TO STOP. Izuku’s thoughts froze on that. He did not want to endure the pain of this quirk. Of a limb exploding and then that wound healing itself—always in the most excruciating way. His body froze and his breath did too. Until the energy compressed and decompressed his lungs to force him to breathe.
He did not want to die. Not when he had singlehandedly made it this far. He ALONE had made it to this point. It had only ever been him, alone for as long as he could remember. Alone now and alone in the future.
I will have that future. Out of everything, this stupid quirk isn ’t going to be the thing to do me in. If anything. I’ll die on my own terms.
His hand would be the only one directing his destiny. This power would not shake, vibrate, buzz, or even hum. It would stop. The spots of still energy in his quirk were not enough. The ocean would settle. He would make it.
It would not make him breathe, Izuku would breathe on his own. There would be no waves, nothing would move him. The ocean would freeze. Only moving at his command.
Izuku pulled the energy away from his lungs, by now he had enough experience to control this much, and then he took a gasping breath of his own volition. He would not be frozen in place. The energy of this quirk would follow his lead. He continued sucking in air and pushing it out because he decided to.
The energy would settle. All of it. It was not infinite. It could not be. As much energy may be stored in this quirk there was no such thing as infinite energy. It was not pouring into him from some ethereal source. It was all already there, and it would not so much as hum for another second.
YES! I can control it!
On the floor of his bus, Izuku was still. And eventually, so was his quirk. He flicked on his heater and curled up next to it. Everything was calm, he could sense the vibration of the heater’s fan, he could still feel the hot air blowing on his face. This time is not like before. I’m not cold. I have a home. I have a quirk.
Although his present circumstances were different, even better than before, that original situation he was comparing his present to. Izuku recalled how similar his position was to…five years ago? Yes, that’s right…right?
A couple of weeks from now marks five years since I found this place. Izuku thought. I know it was because I don’t remember anything before then. I woke up on the streets and survived there for a few weeks until I came across Takoba beach, I found this bus and made this clearing. Once I was settled and more stable, I could move on to the next step. That was making a new identity…
…how did I know how to do that?
These memories streaming through Izuku’s head were not fitting together. There were pieces he had…forgotten? Ignored?
And once I had my new identity, I started taking high school classes. Izuku sat up. Five years ago, I started high school courses. That couldn’t be right. He was…high school doesn’t take that long. I would have been much younger five years ago. Because I’m around fourteen or fifteen now. How would I have been ready for high school classes? That’s not right…but it has to be. I started taking those classes soon after finding this place. And I found this place five years ago. It was five years ago? Right? Yes it was. It always has been that way. I made a new identity and continued going through school so I can live a normal life... That was his goal. It had been from the start.
Except…now that he was trying to put everything together there were inconsistencies.
But a normal life compared to what? Izuku knew without question that he had no memories before five years ago. So how could he be finding edge pieces to a puzzle, when that puzzle’s borders are already complete?
Something else had been forgotten. Something important. But that didn’t matter because Izuku had never wanted to remember his past. He just needed to move forward. Move forward from what? Have I forgotten something else?
………Probably.
And while there was something scary about that, Izuku didn’t want to remember what it was. There had to be a reason why he forgot this. But why does that matter? Izuku thought of no reason why it would impact him right now. It’s late. I’m tired. What problem is there in forgetting? I’ve let Akatani Mikumo die, I’ll move on. I’ll forget him just like I’ve forgotten who exactly I was when Akatani had to be created. If I've forgotten anything along with it, then so be it. I don’t need to worry about what Akatani did, he’s dead, and I’ll forget him and the horrible things he did before he died.
What really matters is that I’m here right now. He turned off the heater and stood up. And right now I’m tired. Izuku turned all the electricity off, dragged himself to the back of the bus, and nestled under his hole-filled blankets on his bed. This time he let the tremors rock him to sleep.