Chapter Text
Orange beams of sunlight filtered through the blinds as the sun bid farewell to the evening and waited in anticipation for the morning. The warm aroma of overly caffeinated coffee drifted languidly from the modest kitchen to the living room, filling the area with the sense of familiarity that Izuku had come to relate to the fragrance. He was comfortably slumped on the worn couch among the creeping darkness that slipped closer and closer by the second, prompting Inko to switch on the main light as she made her way to join her son, carrying the hot beverage that Izuku had grown more and more accustomed to seeing in his mother's hands over the past year.
It was a regular Friday night, sat in front of the TV, waiting for the 9 o'clock news to fill them in on the comings and goings of heroes and Izuku loved it. He loved how his mum always stopped to make sure he had enough covers to fend off the cold now the heating was failing them. He loved how she flipped onto the TV guide to make sure they were on the right channel despite the fact that they always were. He loved how she'd answer any questions he had when he didn't quite catch what the anchorman had said, patiently taking her time to explain the details. He loved how she just paid him attention, always, whether he needed it or not.
Izuku didn't get a whole lot of attention.
Initially, they had chalked it up to his appearance. Izuku wasn't the most eccentric kid, in fact, he was quite the opposite. He was a small ball of freckles and curls with no major defining features, which was especially apparent when he wore the same uniform as the majority of children his age in the area. It made sense, to a degree, that people wouldn't necessarily pick him out in a crowd or hear his soft voice in a sea of much louder sounds.
Izuku was okay with that – he didn't have a whole lot to say if it wasn't on the topic of heroes. Six-year-old Izuku was fine with it, anyway.
It had its merits too. Once finding out he was quirkless, most bullies tended to dismiss him rather than taunt or hurt him. Unlike Bakugou Katsuki, his most revered bully and childhood friend. Like his mum, Kaachan was another constant in Izuku's life, a kid who just refused to forget about him, even when his lackeys were left confused by how much he seemed to loathe the kid they barely picked up in their peripheral vision on most days. Izuku knew he shouldn't like that, but it could all be boiled down to the same thing. He liked Bakugou's attention in the same way he liked his mother's attention; it was unwavering and precious. Hardly anyone else treated him with such intensity.
However, as Izuku began to grow up, it did pose some issues. His achievements were rarely recognised, he had to almost shout during roll call, people were concerned for Bakugou's mental well being, his questions weren't answered in class and many more problems were arising by what felt like the week. He was smart, quick thinking and could have answered the majority of the queries posed by the teacher in class. It was so frustrating, Izuku felt like he had physical restraints tying him down and keeping him from his goals. Forget becoming a hero, how was he supposed to become anything if no one even knew he existed?
Following that train of thought was what lead him to where he was at thirteen years old, wandering the city streets with the night time buzz gently slipping into place. It had been a particularly rough day.
“Midoriya.”
He sighed, if only the day would draw to a close much sooner. He wished he at least had been assigned the window seat. The girl sat there currently was wasting that opportunity, always paying attention to the class. She ignored the sing-song of the chirruping robins in favour of the teacher's drone, dismissed the serene mountainscape that lined the skyline in favour of the dull classroom walls.
“Here sir.”
Maybe if he waved he had a chance of being heard the first time. Although, he'd been testing that theory on and off for the past year and nothing seemed to have changed. 'Madness is doing the same thing and expecting different' or something like that.
“Midoriya?”
He considered a loud sigh but opted for the standard repeat of what he'd just said, but louder.
“Ah, there you are,” the teacher muttered to himself before moving onto the next name. It was last period and the drilling repetition of the same old-same old that came with his disposition was really irking him today. He'd been toying with the idea of it being a quirk for some weeks now and had honestly lost interest in his history class before he'd stepped into the building. The concept was bitter-sweet. For one, he wasn't quirkless. On the other hand... he'd rather be quirkless. What was the actual point in having a quirk so debilitating as invisibility without the actual perks of invisibility? At least if he'd been invisible he'd still be able to answer the teacher and be recognised the first time. Not to mention that his suffering attendance was the least of his concerns.
What hero would I be if no one even knew my name? Knew what I looked like? Knew that I was even there to save the day? How could I save the day with a smile and a cheer if no one even saw me smile and cheer? Comfort civilians in danger? Actually have my villains attention for long enough to fight them? How could I be anything like-
An audible cracking sound dragged him from his thoughts and back to reality. A couple of students had registered the sound too, those nearby gave a general glance around before dismissing the event, unable to pin down and trace what had transpired to the pencil that lay in two halves upon Izuku's desk, one fraction lazily rolling off the edge moments later.
In an attempt to ground himself back in the real world, he surveyed his surroundings and found that he hadn't gone entirely unnoticed. Bakugou's eyes were boring into his own, a silent order to keep quiet before he drew his attention back to masquerading his honestly good school work with a mess of doodles and incoherent script.
Izuku didn't even have it in him to feel the usual glee that he did when he realised that, despite everyone else, he'd always have Bakugou to count on with a glare that simply could not be dismissed as anything other than a blatantly aggressive form of recognition. Because, no, he couldn't count on it anymore. Once they left middle school, what hope did Izuku have for attending U.A where Bakugou was undoubtedly headed with his magnificently flashy and useful quirk?
With that rather dismal epiphany in mind, Izuku didn't really feel like going home once the bell rang and his classmates left in gaggles, leaving him behind. But he also knew he couldn't stay either. Which was how he found himself walking by shop after shop, street after street, with no particular destination to be heading toward until he was deep into the city.
The evening was like any other, teeming with laughter mingled with vomit and more than enough alcohol to satisfy a legion of gluttons. Not so memorable memories were being created as blood streams gave way to intoxication and neurones altered courses.
Dusky cars, busses and the occasional motorbike wound through crisscrossed streets at varying speeds, glancing harsh yellow light across littered streets, illuminating the otherwise invisible plastic scraps and other remnants of daytime activities.
Despite the road's air disturbance, smoke still clung to the surrounding buildings, road signs and stoplights. The smog created a blanket effect, hanging low off rooftops and obscuring any stars and backlit aeroplanes. But the city hadn't been plunged into darkness as nature's will would have it, no. Buzzing neon lights of all possible fluorescent colours glared from bars to newsagents and clubs to supermarkets. It wasn't a place for a kid like him.
He felt that rush that came along with the implications of rule-breaking. Sure, he'd feel terrible later that he'd probably kept his mother up worrying but, in the moment, he was abuzz with a certain toxic excitement. He felt disconnected from the usual drag of his life like he could do something new, different and possibly dangerous with a total disregard for the consequences.
After all, there was only one way to determine whether or not his ability was a quirk and that was to run some tests.
He passed a convenience store when an idea that put his morals on the lines popped into his head. The white light from the establishment painted the pavement in a harsh glow and allowed him to see just clearly enough to make out a rather burly looking man behind the cash register. Upon closer inspection, as Izuku made his way into the shop almost subconsciously, he noticed that the guy had some rather impressive red scales running down the sides of his arms. When combined with the assistant apron he had draped across his torso, he was quite an intimidating sight despite the conflicting styles. If Izuku was caught, he'd face something quite painful. That only urged him to take up the challenge he had thought up.
He walked, a little less hunched over than he usually would, into the shop and started stuffing his pockets with miscellaneous items off the shelves. Magazines, sweets, cigarettes and anything that he laid his hands upon until his school jacket pockets were stuffed full. It was an effort to be noticed without outright calling out to the man who just continued to stare right through him. He tried his best not to start giggling hysterically at the absurdity of the scenario.
It was when he was halfway down the street and homebound that the reality of the situation finally sunk in. He'd stolen. He'd committed a crime.
His quirk was perfect for villainy.
Whether it had been the draw of the bright lights, the thick scent of intoxication in the air or general evening feeling that had brought him to do this didn't matter but the implications did. Suddenly feeling weak at the knees, he grasped onto a nearby lamppost for support as it dawned on him, crushing his mentality and purpose in one fell swoop. He could feel the tears pricking at his eyes already, blurring the neon lights into a mesh of pretty colours. When he finally broke, he broke hard, collapsing to the ground with a woeful succession of whimpers and hiccups.
“...I didn't... I don't want this...” He mumbled his directionless pleas between bubbles of salty saliva and small gasps, holding onto his chest as though it'd calm the erratic beating of his heart.
He didn't know when, or how, but he had moved into a seated position against the cold wall, ass planted upon the unforgiving and arguably colder floor. He observed his surroundings without a clue as to what to do aside from simply waiting for his eyes to dry up. He couldn't go home, so instead, he watched as life continued on around him.
Across the road from him, a drunken couple staggered on their merry way, giggling and sniggering and guzzling all the while. They passed the disused warehouse, one of many with paint peeling. Neglected by the pompous businessman and reclaimed by the common homeless man. Opposite to that, manufactured music verging on becoming white noise was blaring out of a seedy casino. Betters of matching attire milled in and out of it. Placing a store, casino and warehouse next to each other seemed a little strange. He couldn't help but analyse. It was what he did best.
The arbitrary collection of establishments was located on the outskirts of the town yet the road was as busy as any other. He speculated that the taxi rank a short ways down the street helped. That also posed the question of how he'd gone from the inner city to where he currently sat, uncomfortably slumped.
A distant cry begged for his attention and he snapped his head in the direction it had come from. A woman in a frilly yellow dress was pointing at a running figure with a certain air of desperation that just screamed: “help me." Izuku blinked away his bleary vision as the figure in question got closer and closer, unaware of the Izuku's presence. All it took was for him to stick out his leg like a classic school bully and the person went flying headfirst into the pavement. A little crumpled and overly dazed, the man now lay a mere few feet from him, loudly groaning in an attempt to rile himself up enough to stand. Even closer was a glistening gem-riddled purse that just didn't fit the guy's navy Adidas tracksuit.
Izuku recognised redemption when he saw it and grasped it firmly with two hands.
All he had to do was stand, pick up the purse and make his way to the woman. Once the man resumed his getaway, empty-handed, Izuku made his presence known to the woman with a small shout.
“U-um Miss, is this yours?”
The sheer look of pure relief that overtook the woman's face was enough to provoke his trodden pride to rear its head and bask in that feeling of goodness that came with helping others. She took what was rightfully hers and expressed her gratitude by slipping a few coins into his hand, which he tried valiantly to refuse but he just couldn't get his stutters to formulate words because of how overwhelmed he was. With a few more thank-yous and an embarrassed giggle from Izuku, the woman in the yellow dress left his sight, purse in hand.
“That's that then,” Izuku thought aloud, smiling to himself. He gave the cash in his palm a pensive look. “Time to make things right.”
With his faith restored and a leap in his step, he returned the stolen items to the convenience store and tipped the cashier, unbeknownst to the man himself. With the remaining coins, he used a payphone to dial the house phone to reassure his mother.
“Hello?”
“Izuku baby, is that you?”
His mother's worried tone rung painfully in his ears but it couldn't dampen the hopeful flame that had been lit within him that evening.
“Yes mum, I'm really sorry I couldn't tell you earlier, I stayed late at school to work on a project.”
“Oh, thank goodness! I was so worried, I thought something had happened to you!”
He really couldn't blame her for how she felt. In fact, it warmed his heart to remember that-
“Sorry mum, yeah everything is fine.”
- in an unforgiving world where most didn't know his name-
“It's getting awfully late sweetie, are you on your way back?”
- He'd always have his mother keeping him in her thoughts.
“Yeah, I'm gonna catch the first train that comes.”
Oh, and Bakugou for a short while.