Chapter Text
When Midoriya is young, no older than five, he sits at the kitchen table and watches his mother make dinner.
It’s an enchanting process. The ingredients drift languidly through the air, puppeted by invisible strings. Tonight, she’s making pasta, and she gently suspends her spoon above the stovetop as the salt dashes itself into the pot. Cooking is where her ability shines most, in Midoriya’s opinion. Larger objects are harder for her to move and float, but she can maneuver the cooking essentials with ease. Whatever she can’t, she has two free hands to carry herself. Anything that’s left is what Midoriya is for.
His mom picks up the pot and carries it to the sink, where a colander floats gently in the basin. She dumps the pot into the colander, then the noodles go back into the pot and she returns to the stove. She’s humming something Midoriya doesn’t recognize, but it’s nice.
Midoriya extracts himself from his spot at the kitchen table to pull open the fridge door. His mom gives him a soft smile from across the kitchen. “Thank you, Izuku. That's very nice of you.” He beams as the shredded cheese drifts out from the second drawer from the top to join the other ingredients in their airborne dance around his mother’s head.
She’s used her powers in this way for as long as Midoriya can remember, and he’s always waited for the day that he, too, would be able to do it.
“Well, I’m not surprised you can’t do it yet. You’d have to be as good as me, and there’s no way,” Bakugou says one day as they play together after school. He holds up his hand. Tiny bursts of orange energy pop and crackle along his fingertips.
Midoriya nods enthusiastically, taking the comment in stride. “It’s so cool! I’ll be able to do it soon, I just know it. I bet I’ll be able to do psychic fire like my dad and move things like my mom!”
Bakugou brings his palms together, squinting at him over steepled fingers. “Nah, you’ll probably wind up getting psychic farts.”
Midoriya swats at him, screwing up his face. “No I won’t!”
Bakugou laughs. It doesn’t feel unkind, but it doesn’t feel good. “Yeah you will!”
“Nuh-uh!”
“Yeah-huh!”
Later, when they walk home, Midoriya says, “If I can breathe fire like my dad, then we can do fire stuff together.”
Bakugou punches him on the shoulder. “Then get regular telekinesis, like your mom. Only I can make things catch fire. I’ll make stuff catch fire, and then you can lift it up in the air. Like a torch. We’ll be like a team.”
“Yeah!” The punch hurts, but Midoriya simply holds his shoulder and smiles back. He can’t wait for it. Things have been different since Bakugou’s powers awakened, and when his own powers manifest, they’ll go back to being the same. Izuku and Kacchan, friends and equals.
It never happens.
-----
Midoriya waits patiently for his powers. He waits through his sixth birthday, through his seventh and his eighth. His mother reminds him with a tight-lipped smile that her powers did not awaken until she was ten. She opened her eyes to half of the knick-knacks on her shelf suspended in the air.
Midoriya writes that down in a clean notebook. He starts taking notes on every psychic power he’s seen. He wants to know everything there is about them-- he thinks, maybe he’ll become an esper researcher, or a scientist. He fills pages with notes about his mom, with details she slips him about his dad, with things Bakugou once showed him or described his own mother doing. He writes down things about the spirit mediums on TV— the famous, the flukes, and every psychic in between. Midoriya sets aside a few pages, labelled for himself, for when his powers arrive.
He waits through his ninth birthday.
Bakugou has long since lost interest in him. As the years passed, Bakugou’s powers became more impressive-- and more dangerous. Small scars freckle his forearms where the bursts of energy fizzled out improperly and scattered sparks. He doesn’t use his powers in school anymore-- not in front of the prying eyes of teachers and administration-- but when the neighborhood kids get together to play, all bets are off.
He’s gotten meaner.
Midoriya has gone home on more than one occasion covered in scrapes and bruises and burns. His mom frowns at the injuries, but she tends to them without too much of a fuss. The first time it happened, she had asked if he and Bakugou had gotten into a fight. He had lied. What else could he do? Bakugou was just playing too rough, he said.
At the time, it wasn’t exactly untrue. Perhaps Bakugou did think he was just playing. At this age, though, Midoriya doesn’t have to be a genius to see that Bakugou is very aware of the power he holds over others.
It’s not that he doesn’t admire it, though. Midoriya wonders what the awakening of his own powers will mean for this dynamic. Bakugou seems to have found himself walking a path separate from everyone else, and though it may have been an accident initially, he’s leaned into the role he’s been given. It’s a narrow road. Midoriya isn’t sure there’s room for anyone else on it.
He daydreams about what may happen. Sometimes, he thinks about hiding his powers from Bakugou-- quietly cultivating them in his room, cooking with his mom, hiccuping sparks. Other times, he envisions showing them off with pride. The kids on the playground are impressed. Bakugou sees him as an equal. He doesn’t have to play by himself anymore. Other times still, he wonders what it might be like to show not just the neighborhood kids, but the world-- wielding them like superpowers, stopping bad guys in dark alleys, rescuing people…
But of course, they aren’t really superpowers.
He says as much, when one of the neighborhood kids uses the phrase as Bakugou emits a particularly impressive display of firepower from his palms. Midoriya has explained this countless times over the years. “But they aren’t a superpower or anything like that,” he says. “It’s just because he’s an esper.”
Bakugou whips around to face him, scowling. “Shut up, Deku,” he snaps. “You’re just jealous.”
Well, he’s not exactly wrong, but he’s not exactly right, either. Midoriya frowns, carefully pocketing his hands so no one will see them shake. “But it’s true. You’re just good at that one thing. That doesn’t make it a superpower. It’s cool, but it doesn’t make you better than anyone.”
Bakugou tchs, eyebrows lowering. “Well, you don’t have any powers at all, so I’m better than you, right?”
“I’m-- I’m going to get my powers. They just haven’t awakened.”
Bakugou takes a step towards him. “They just haven’t awakened,” he whines, voice a high-pitched mockery of Midoriya’s own. He closes the remaining distance between them. “Maybe I should just awaken them for you right now.”
Midoriya unpockets his hands instinctively. He balls up the bottom of his shirt in them, struggling to keep composure. “Stop it, Kacchan. I’m-- I’m not scared of you.” His voice wavers unconvincingly.
The shove is expected, a slam of force on against both of his shoulders that sends him reeling backwards. What he doesn’t expect is the explosion of psychic energy that blasts out at the contact points, hitting him so hard that he meets the ground more on his shoulders than his back and flips head over heels in the dirt. The air rushes out of him and he pushes himself up on his elbows, wheezing.
There’s a small chorus of laughter from the spectators. The sky is orange; many of the kids have already gone home for dinner. It’s just Midoriya, Bakugou, and three other boys. Bakugou leers down at him, grinning widely. “Go on, Deku,” he laughs. “Are your powers working yet?”
Midoriya gets to his feet, raising his fists. “S-Stop it,” he stammers.
“Or what?” Bakugou slides one hand in his pocket and holds the other one close to Midoriya’s face. Midoriya feels the hum of energy beginning to build up in the air by his cheek. “Gonna use your powers on me? Gonna make me stop?”
“Oh,” says an adult’s voice. “Yeah, that’s definitely him.”
Bakugou drops his hand instantly, turning on heel towards the voice. There’s two grown ups standing on the sidewalk at the edge of the playground. They have suits on.
Someone else pipes up from behind Midoriya. “Hey, kid. You’re coming with us.”
Midoriya turns. The voice is not addressing him, but Bakugou. There’s two more adults walking up from his back left-- and another pair approaching from the right. They’re surrounded by a triangle. Bakugou’s brow furrows and he casts a quick glance around the him. He balls up a fist. “What? I’m not going with you.”
The other boys shift uncomfortably, suddenly nervous. “Is Bakugou in trouble?”
Midoriya’s brow is furrowed, too. For an instant, he was relieved, but these aren’t grown ups that have come to stop him from getting bullied. There’s a sinister feeling settled deep in Midoriya’s chest.
One of the adults laughs, rubbing his temple with his fingers. “Uh, in trouble?” The fingers slide down his face and tap at his chin in mock concentration. “More trouble than he knows, I think.”
The man extends his hand and the other grown ups follow suit.
Midoriya and Bakugou both understand what is about to happen at the exact same time. Midoriya stumbles back while Bakugou throws himself forward, raising both hands as an explosion of energy flickers to life in his palms. He makes it to the adult esper closest to him and slams both hands directly into her stomach with everything he’s got.
He stops just short of contact. Despite the added effort, his explosion doesn’t hit her as hard as it hit Midoriya. She stumbles a step or two back, exhaling in a long sigh through her teeth. Midoriya gasps at the sight-- the remains of her jacket around her midriff are smouldering, but the shirt underneath, save for some slight fraying, is unmarred.
Bakugo gasps. For the first time that Midoriya has ever seen, he looks scared. He seems to be struggling against some invisible force, and Midoriya realizes that the espers have bound him telekinetically.
The other boys shriek and peel off, sprinting for the park exit. The adults don’t even watch them leave.
The woman addresses the pair of espers flanking Midoriya’s left, patting down her shirt. “That was close-- thanks for the barrier.”
A barrier?
Midoriya glances around, tallying the adults one more time. They’re working in tandem, then-- some supplying the barriers, and the rest supplying the telekinesis?
Bakugo screams suddenly, and there’s a flash as whatever telekinetic energy is keeping him bound is suddenly shattered. He extends his palms again-- his fear has been replaced by fury. He explodes towards the adults once more, his aura sharp and hot and crackling.
A giant, invisible fist punches Bakugou out of the air. It slams sideways into him and sends him flying across the playground; he sails seven or eight feet before landing in an unceremonious heap in the grass. Midoriya can’t breathe. Bakugou shudders, face-down on the ground. Then one elbow goes up, then the other, and he begins to raise himself to his knees.
Telekinesis slams him back down.
“What about this one?”
The owner of the voice sounds bored. It takes Midoriya a moment to realize they’re talking about him.
“That brat over there was saying something about him having powers.”
Powers?
Midoriya doesn’t have any powers. He knows this. They haven’t awakened yet. They may not awaken until he’s ten. He can’t do anything like that. The words are there, on the tip of his tongue, but his mouth hangs open and useless. He can’t take his eyes off of Bakugou on the ground. His hands tremble at his sides.
A hand pushes his shoulder and he yelps, spinning around and scrambling backwards. In an instant, he finds he can’t move anymore.
“Geez! Jumpy as Hell.”
One of the voices laughs. Midoriya can’t turn his head to see which one. “He’s traumatized, look at him!”
Several other voices join in the laughter. “That’s so sad.”
A laugh from above booms out over the rest, silencing them. “It is sad, isn’t it?”
It’s like he drops from the sky. An enormous man, no less than seven feet tall and more densely muscled than anyone Midoriya has ever seen in his life, lands directly behind one of the pairs of adults. The man doesn’t even look at them; instead, he addresses Midoriya directly. He is smiling.
“There’s nothing to worry about, young man-- I am here.”
Midoriya has seen him before. On the TV and in magazines. He’s a famous spirit medium, so they say, but his presence his completely different in person. The esper adults recognize him too, apparently, because the amusement in their faces is quickly replaced by a mix of horror and hostility.
“Shit--”
“It’s him--”
“What’s All Might doing here--?!”
All Might’s fists burst out from him as if they’re separate living creatures, knuckles shattering through whatever barrier had been erected. It’s almost comical-- the two adults closest to him are thrown like ragdolls across the playground. The force binding Midoriya eases, and for a moment, he thinks that All Might has already taken out the majority of the telekinesis espers.
Unfortunately, it’s simply a lapse of concentration.
Telekinesis clamps down on Midoriya like a vice grip, not just immobilizing him but hoisting him up in the air. He feels like he leaves his stomach behind as he shoots ten, fifteen, twenty feet in the air. He’s so tightly bound that he can’t even work open his jaw enough to scream, and instead he howls against his clenched teeth, chest seizing with fear. He can only see the clouds above him.
“Back off, All Might, or--” The demand is cut short by the sound of an explosion, followed by shouts and the sounds of a scuffle.
Is it Bakugou? Midoriya can’t tell. His heart hammers in his ears. Bakugou had looked down for the count, but… if he could force himself to stand, he would. And All Might is there. All Might is there, and so are these adult espers.
They were after Bakugou, and then Midoriya in turn, because they thought they had powers.
There’s another bang from below and suddenly, the force holding Midoriya up in the air is gone. There’s wind whistling in his ears, and he’s flipping head over heels, and there’s pavement rushing up to meet him and it’s
dark.
-----
Midoriya gets 17 stitches in an 8 inch path that crawls from the middle of his forehead into the right side of his hairline.
The days immediately following the event are blurry and unfocused. Midoriya’s head hurts constantly. It’s difficult to hold on to thoughts. He spends most of it sleeping.
Eventually, the concussion goes away. The nightmares do not.
Bakugou moves away. His family packs up their belongings hastily and leaves only days after he is released from the hospital. Midoriya catches a glimpse the moving truck driving away from the apartment window. Of course they had to leave. Those adult espers knew where Bakugou played; they probably knew where he lived.
Midoriya tries to convince himself that they don’t know where he lives, too.
He begs his mother not to use her powers anymore. He can’t watch her make dinner. She stops moving things when he’s around, but he knows she still does. They don’t own a stepstool, and his mother can’t reach the upper shelves without one, but the dishes stored there wind up on the kitchen table nonetheless.
It’s hard to walk home from school now. Midoriya scans the people around him constantly, always searching for the same-- suits and sunglasses, suits and sunglasses. The businesspeople coming home from work make his palms sweat. He tracks them carefully with his eyes. Just in case.
As his tenth birthday approaches, Midoriya struggles to cope with his mounting anxiety. Every morning, he lies awake, afraid to open his eyes, lest he be met by the sight of something floating above him. Some days, the most he can do is blindly feel his way out of his room and open his eyes in the hallway. He doesn’t bring it up to his mother. When the day comes and passes with nary a ruffled book page, he cries in relief.
The esper notebooks are shoved as far back in his closet as he can get them. If Midoriya wasn’t terrified of the information they contained falling into the wrong hands, he would throw them away. He’d destroy them, but he can’t bear to see their contents. He piles heaps of blankets and toys on top of them and leaves them alone.
Psychic powers will make Midoriya a target. He wants nothing more to do with them.