Chapter Text
Not all men are created equal. A logical truth Izuku Midoriya had learned at a young age, too young in fact. It was a truth he strived to overcome and surpass to make his dreams come true, despite his setbacks and steeper road. One such setback is his apparent lack of a quirk, an inherent upgrade to the human base that most have. In fact, 80% of the population had this powerup, these quirks. Most quirkless are elderly so statistically, it is unlikely for Izuku to lack something that has become fundamental to humanity. So ingrained into society that it lead to the creation of a new job market: Heroes. And having a quirk was practically a prerequisite for such a dangerous field.
Yet, Izuku knew there was more to the industry than what was shown to the public. He will admit he is a hardcore fanboy and can be excessive in his research but, it leads to his most inspirational discovery:
Heroes are more than a quirk.
His revelation came with the discovery of underground heroes and other limelight-less heroes that had quirks that weren’t physical or flashy. Underground heroes were especially unknown, and that was by choice. They had a reliance on support items and training. Tactical skills and analysis. Many non-quirk traits and skills. This new discovery spurred him into taking action on preparing himself beyond honing a quirk he didn’t quite have.
Now, he is currently labeled as quirkless but he knows that isn’t right. He has a quirk, but it is one of those situational or stress-related quirks. He just hasn’t figured out how to activate it, and it has been very stubborn on not letting him figure it out too. This leads him to be heavily bullied as a “quirkless” but, it’s never taken too far. The other students fear the day his quirk may activate and kill them all. Hear the sarcasm? Some are more intense or physical but he doubts anyone could be more critical at him than himself.
But, beyond the typical quirk training that most kids would focus on, Izuku threw himself into tactical studies and analyzing situations. It wasn’t super-advanced but it had its perks. He could read situations better and know when to be more meek or show more spine. His quirk analysis is okay but he hardly sees that as a special skill. Izuku has enrolled in some free self-defense classes and studied the internet dojo as well to help him survive. He isn’t strong but he knows enough to get an advantage and retreat. All of this is so he could be a hero.
He’s going to prove them all wrong.
That is a hard goal to accomplish, though, when the all-powerful boy who had been your best friend when you both were in diapers shoves you against a brick wall in an alley and you can do nothing about it. Izuku wasn’t just giving up but this particular boy could do a lot of damage if provoked. So he bit his tongue while the blonde ball of anger started to go off.
Katsuki Bakugo was blessed in the eyes of the adults. Perfect confidence. Perfect quirk. Perfect academics. He was to rise above everyone and be the next number one hero. He had a flawless record despite less-than-flawless behavior that was to aide him into that perfect career. His heaven-sent quirk was called Explosions, a blunt and direct name like its user. His sweat glands secreted nitroglycerin that he could ignite on command, therefore making small explosions. It was a powerful quirk and made his personality that much more nuclear.
Izuku has known all those small details since Katsuki’s quirk first manifested. He had been interested in breaking down quirks since he was a child after all. Knowledge is power, but power is power in its own right. It was what made him cautious around Mr. Explosions.
“You useless fucking Deku! Going for UA!? Are you trying to ruin my origin story?!” The boy shouts in the deadpan Izuku’s face. It was this conversation again. How dense could he be?
Izuku closed his eyes, his head aching from being slammed into the alley wall. No concussion, luckily. He manages to keep some composure. “No. I’m making my own.” He glares, almost offended by what Kacchan was implying. “ But if you so desire to have the perfect origin story, I can take a great big dive off the roof just like you suggested!” Izuku laughs bitterly. “Or you can let me be a hero, too.” His eyes narrow in a challenge. Katsuki knew the implications suicide baiting could have on his record, he wasn’t completely dense. He just figured Izuku was too much of a coward to do anything.
“How can you be a hero, fucking nerd,” he practically snarls into Izuku’s face, his voice having a natural, animalistic growl to it. “Are you going to reveal that supposed quirk you have!? We all know you’re in denial about being a quirkless Deku!” Small explosions fired off near Izuku’s head, causing the greenette to flinch at the loud sound. It left his ear ringing just a bit but Izuku didn’t want that to phase him.
“I don’t need a quirk to be-” He yelps in surprise at the louder explosions, his eardrums nearly bursting. His shoulder started to ache, the jacket he wore smoking as the hand gripping said shoulder heated and exploded as well. “Katsuki- STOP! You’re burning me!” It didn’t really hurt but it was better to give Katsuki the satisfaction of winning than edging him on by being defiant. It saved clothing as well.
“Tch, whatever. Stay out of my way, useless Deku. You can’t be a hero if you can’t even take a hit!” He hunches over, irritated, and starting to walk away. Izuku was mid-denial of Katsuki’s accusations when he was suddenly reeling from a blow to his face, the short-tempered teen having just swung right at Izuku.
Izuku falls back into the alley, holding his face as tears formed defiantly despite his attempt at a neutral face. Katsuki has slugged him right in the cheek, proving his cruel point with a grunt of finality before actually leaving the small teen in the alley. Izuku sat there for a minute, his world spinning as the explosions and punch skewed his balance.
Rubbing his face tenderly, Izuku hesitantly climbed to his feet. He took a hesitant step to test himself before making his way to a nearby park. It felt like a safe place with how open it was. He still felt sore and dizzy from all the head-focused attacks and decided that sitting down was his best option right now. Katsuki really knew how to knock him around. It’ll make him a great fighter as a hero, Izuku thought dryly as he sat on a bench.
Izuku closes his eyes, taking deep and slow breaths to calm his racing heart and mind. The ringing in his ears was just starting to fade when a voice cuts through it.
“Hey, you look like you got mugged. Are you okay?” Izuku didn’t want to open his eyes yet, trying to decipher what he could from the voice and tone alone. It wasn’t the smartest idea considering he could be attacked easily with his eyes shut. The voice sounded tired though, and about as done with everything as Izuku felt. He sat quiet a moment longer before deciding to ease the mind of the poor witness and respond to their inquiries.
“Nothing was stolen.” He stiffens, wincing at the volume he spoke. He couldn’t hear himself but that didn’t feel like his normal volume. That was definitely too loud. He spoke softer, opening his eyes and casting them downwards at his clasped, shaking hands to avoid the eyes of the stranger. “I’m fine. What prompted you to talk to me?” The question probably had the inquirer short circuit for a moment so he finally looks up and examines his visitor.
The teen boy looked like a flower of death, which felt like a mildly amusing observation on his part. He seemed to have permanent eye bags that matched his tired expression. Izuku could assume he was an insomniac of some kind, having his own eye bags from repeated late nights and lack of sleep. Lavender hair stood and flared out from his head in a gravity-defying way, giving off the flower vibe Izuku got from his initial impression. Despite the spiked look, the texture was more like a cloud. It seemed as soft as one from sight alone. His posture was outwardly relaxed but tense enough to bolt at a moment’s notice. Practiced, Izuku notes. He did have quite the slouch to make himself seem smaller. It also looked like a learned behavior. Izuku had moments where he would look just like that, at least when he was younger.
“Well, I usually sit at this bench.” The boy starts, a hesitant look gracing his expression. “... and I saw you hobble out of an alley after some gang of guys left.” He continues, though he dropped his volume. The boy also began to rub his neck nervously. Izuku noted the teen was observant. That is a good quality to have. Most ignore his presence since he was rather plain-looking.
Izuku gives a dry laugh, smiling sourly to the young boy. He was trying to keep face and not concern someone random but it wasn’t working. Today has been a bitter day through and through. “Don’t worry. I’m used to them treating the “useless” me like that.” The words triggered a new wave of headaches as the day came in small flashes. He rubs his head with a small wince, facing his head down but keeping his eyes on the boy.
The visitor sighs, familiarity in his gaze as he sits down by the small teen. He pulls his school bag in front of him and starts to dig through it. Izuku could only star in confusion, mildly thinking that he was going to be killed now. But, to his surprise, the death flower pulls out a first aid kit. An oddly large one at that. “What’s the damage?”
“...What?” Izuku stared at him in disbelief, eyes like saucers. A complete stranger just sat next to him and offered to treat his injuries.
“Look I- I don’t approach people often. I want to help. What did that gang do to you?” He looks to the wide-eyed teen. His expression remains neutral, Izuku struggling to pick out the underlying reason for such an offer. It felt too surreal for someone to be generous to him. But, he couldn’t find any fine print at all if he were honest. The soft ringing in his ears convinces him to yield and let the teen help.
“Uh… some burns, bruises, and head trauma? Wait, why do you want to help? We’re strangers” Izuku was still taken aback and realized he could just ask the boy his reason. Though, he couldn’t count on perfect honesty. This kind of generosity was only shown to him by his mom. It was kind of sad to think about. His “practically quirkless” status made him expendable to others.
“Hitoshi Shinsou.” The teen instead says, not replying to his direct question.
“What?” The name drop was another hurdle that Izuku didn’t expect. This whole experience feels strange.
“My name. Yours?” The interaction was awkward, both having little to no experience in these situations. The boy, Shinsou, was blunt and had clipped sentences. It was like he was afraid to speak too much.
“Izuku Midoriya?” He replies hesitantly.
“That sounded more like a question. Is that your name?” He was patient even if he was a bit blunt. Yet, he looked fed up with Izuku’s existence. If he weren’t used to it, he might’ve commented on the look Shinsou was giving him. But, from what Izuku could gather, that was a normal expression from him and not intended to curse his existence.
“Yeah, sorry. I hadn’t meant for it to come out in that way.” He gives an awkward laugh, looking away from Shinsou. He bashed himself for sounding ridiculous when it wasn’t needed. He could’ve replied just as bluntly. Was a little kindness so jarring?
Yes. It was.
“Well, Mid-” Shinsou started, Izuku immediately interrupting as Shinsou started to refer to him.
“Izuku is fine. I know formalities are a thing but I-” He trails off, his thoughts nearly ground to a halt. Baring his heart to a stranger now, is he? “I don’t like my family name.” He finishes, partially pealing off the metaphorical bandage holding his emotional baggage.
Izuku’s family name was from his late step-father. The man his mom had married when she was still pregnant with him to live a stable life with him, a bastard child. The man was a bastard himself, both in birth and character, and when he wasn’t abusive, neglect was his next choice. He seemed to adore his overseas offers and would go abroad constantly in the few years his mom was with the man. They were lucky that he had regularly sent money to aid to keep them afloat. It meant he didn’t just straight-up forget them. The man died in America a decade or so ago so now they had a moderate inheritance, the bastard at least leaving it to them. It was good for now but his mom continued to work so they could stay ahead.
Izuku would take the family name of his biological father in a heartbeat if he knew it. But the odds are stacked against him. He knows there is a chance he’ll find him if he knows his quirk. It may not be until his deathbed that he learns but he could dream. He simply added the dream to the small pile he had collected.
“Ah. Well, call me Hitoshi then. Turnabout is fair play, after all.” After a nod of confirmation from Izuku accepting the terms, Hitoshi finally opens the first aid kit. “So I have some burn cream and pain killers. I don’t think this kit is good for head trauma, though.”
“I don’t think anything is good for head trauma.” Izuku blinks as the mental gears skip a spoke, staring at the kit as his brain short circuits. “...That was not the proper response.” He mumbles, starting to feel a bit concerned for his health.
“You should probably find a healer for that. But, for now, turn this way so I can deal with those burns.” He says, almost mumbling as he sees them more clearly. Izuku turns, deciding it was okay to trust the purple-haired boy with injury experience. He was low on supplies at home and got burnt in some unreachable places. Those burns were aching anyways.
As Hitoshi cares for the burn gently applying the burn cream, he’s quiet. It was a strange silence that Izuku hadn’t expected. He could see Hitoshi wanted to say something or at least had a thought on his mind. That’s what Izuku thought he saw as the boy worked his magical and soothing burn cream against the wounds. Izuku takes a shaky breath.
“Something on your mind, Hitoshi?” The sudden question had said boy jumping slightly, his eyes widening a fraction for a second. He quickly went back to working on the wound, focusing, regaining composure before replying.
“You look, uh, used to the injuries. You barely flinched when I applied the burn salve.” He sounded concerned but remained reserved. Izuku was shocked Hitoshi had noticed such a detail. Then again, the cream burned as it soothed. He can’t recall the last time he flinched applying the stuff. He has been dealing with burns for so long.
“... I’m practically quirkless.” Izuku says, deciding to rip off the bandage fully. No point in pretending. If Hitoshi was as smart as Izuku was guessing, the teen will connect the dots and then leave. That’s what everyone does.
“What does that have to do with- oh.” He glances away after his brief moment of confusion, realization hitting him with a pang of familiarity. Izuku hadn’t seen the familiarity, having chosen to avoid eye contact once again. “I- I’m considered to have a villain’s quirk.” Why is he telling a kid he just met today such things?
That wasn’t what he expected for a reply. He expected taunting and laughter. He didn’t expect another of Hitoshi’s “turnabout is fair play”. He had really thought Hitoshi was like every other person. He looks up, his tongue feeling swollen. He wanted to tell Hitoshi they were wrong. He wanted to say so much but only let out a small response.
“That sounds rough.” He says instead.
The two went quiet, still as statues. Both holding their breaths in the stillness They both had said the friendship ending secrets that lead to their perpetual loneliness. And they expected the other to abandon them, flee in regret, fear, or disappointment. But, neither moved to leave. Neither of the rejected heroes-to-be stood in an act of leaving. They sat there, together. Realization shone in their eyes and the pregnant silence yielded to a closer understanding that few others would recognize.
At that moment, two young and broken teens found themselves a friend for the first time in a decade.
And laughter broke the stillness.