Chapter Text
A fresh start.
That’s what Izuku keeps repeating to himself in the hopeful tone of his mother. The words play like a loop in his head as he keeps his head down, focusing on moving his feet forward. One step at a time. The sight of his ratty red sneakers is comforting.
Musutafu Private Middle School. He replays the facts that he had so meticulously researched for weeks leading up to the first day at his new school. 10th-ranked private middle school in Japan. Particularly known for having at least two students accepted into U.A. every year.
His death-grip on his backpack straps somehow dig tighter. A fresh start. A fresh start.
On instinct, he reaches for the All Might keychain attached to his pack, running his thumb over the familiar points of the iconic hair. He has to stay calm. He’ll be fine. A lot of other people won’t know each other, either. It's their first year, after all. And at a private middle school, no less. His mother refuses to tell him, but he knows a school like this isn’t cheap. He’s only grateful that his father, while absent, cares enough to help alleviate the cost of his tuition.
“Don’t worry about it, Izuku.” His mother cups his cheeks, placing a kiss on his forehead. “If you can get the fresh start you need, then money means nothing. I just want you to be safe. ”
Unconsciously, Izuku tugs at the sleeves of his new school-issued black jacket. The jacket is meant for colder weather, but the standard white uniform shirt is too short-sleeved for his comfort. He’d rather get questions about why he’s wearing part of the winter uniform over why he’s got burn scars all over his arms. He’s just glad the administration was accommodating with his request.
Izuku finally reaches the door to his classroom, peering in through the window. He internally celebrates a small victory when he sees that he’s the first to arrive. He doesn’t think he can handle a room full of eyes watching the newcomer. His nerves are frayed enough as is.
He chooses a seat at the far back corner of the room, far from possible prying eyes. He pulls out his latest Hero Analysis notebook along with a copy of History of Pro Heroes: 5th Edition. He’s been taking the time to research the more old-school Pros, some of whom are long retired by now. It’s fascinating, he muses, how many different heroes have emerged over the ages. How even seemingly weak Quirks were put to use to save lives.
As long as you have a Quirk, anything is possible. He blinks, refusing to give in the familiar sting behind his eyes. Instead, he focuses on losing himself to his research.
Thankfully, he absorbs himself so thoroughly in his work that he barely registers the rest of the class slowly filing in. No one spares him a second glance. If they do, he doesn’t really notice. It’s times like these that he’s silently grateful for his plain, forgettable appearance.
It’s only when the chair in front of him scrapes against the floor that Izuku finally looks up. The boy is already sitting down, greeting Izuku with the back of his head of spiky black hair. The boy doesn’t seem interested in making friends, and that’s fine by him. He’s about to return to his notebook when his eye catches the boy’s bright red backpack, slung over his seat, the fluorescent light catching on the keychain linked to the zipper. The keychain is smudged with dirt, but the letters C.R. are bold with flashy red font.
C.R. Is that the boy’s name? With the way the font is, the keychain looks really similar to a hero logo. Izuku swears he’s seen it before —
“Ah!” He exclaims out loud. “Crimson Riot!”
The boy startles in his seat, and Izuku claps a hand over his mouth. He really, really needs to keep his thoughts in his skull where they belong. “I-I mean!” Izuku waves his hands frantically. “I-I’m sorry, I just saw your keychain and since I’ve been studying older Pro Heroes, I recognized it as Crimson Riot’s hero logo a-and I just spoke without thinking —”
The boy finally whips around in his seat to face him and Izuku trails off. The boy’s mouth is slightly parted, and Izuku is taken aback by the jagged line of pointed teeth visible from beneath his upper lip. There’s a small, curved scar over his right eye — oh. His eyes.
His eyes are red. Izuku is all too familiar with red eyes.
But this boy’s red eyes aren’t filled with annoyance or disgust or the promise of a beatdown. They’re just wide with surprise, looking at Izuku without any malicious intent. “You know Crimson Riot?” He asks hesitantly.
It takes a moment for Izuku’s tongue to unstick from the roof of his mouth. “Yeah!” He manages to say, maybe a little louder than necessary. “I, um, I really like to study Heroes. I studied Crimson Riot a while ago. He was Pro Hero Number 22 at his peak. The Chivalrous Hero. Hair-hardening quirk.” He realizes he’s rambling again, so before he can make an even bigger fool of himself, he finishes meekly, “He’s really cool.”
The boy stares at him, and Izuku initiates a complete internal meltdown. Oh god. Oh no. Right after I said to keep my thoughts to myself and I start rambling again. He probably thinks I’m a weirdo or a nerd or a creep or all three and there goes my chance to make new friends —
Izuku is yanked from his thoughts when he’s nearly blinded by the look that overtakes the boy’s face. The boy’s mouth stretches into a grin from ear to ear, displaying full rows of pearly white pointed teeth. Like a shark. If sharks looked this friendly. And his eyes are positively sparkling. It’s like staring directly at the sun. “Right?” The boy grips the back of his chair, leaning forward over Izuku’s desk. “Oh my god, he’s the coolest! He’s old-school, so nobody really knows him that well, but he’s my favorite hero! The manliest of men!”
Izuku nods rapidly. At this point, his brain is half-melted and running on auto-pilot. “His motto is, “as long as you have a manly spirit —” ”
“— it doesn’t matter what kind of Quirk you have!” ” The boy finishes the sentence with an air punch, nearly vibrating in his seat from his excitement. “Dude! That’s so cool that you know so much about him! And you just said all that from the top of your head like that! You must be really smart!” He waves his arms around to accentuate his point.
Me? Smart? Not nerdy? Or weird? Or creepy? Or all three? It’s all very overwhelming for Izuku, whose face promptly matches the shade of the boy’s red backpack. “A-ah, no, it’s not like that!” Now Izuku’s waving his arms, too. “Like I said, I like researching heroes, so I had all these notes about Crimson Riot.” He squirms in his seat a little bit, steeling himself. Here goes nothing. “I-If you want, I can show you some of them.” He mumbles in a rush before he can lose his nerve.
Oh no. He shouldn’t have said that. Why would he say that? Why would anyone want to look at his messy notes? He’s about to take it back, but the boy cuts him off before he can.
“ Really? ” The boy sounds like Izuku’s just offered him the world . “That’d be awesome! I’d love to see them!” A hand appears under Izuku’s nose. “I’m Kirishima Eijirou!”
Izuku takes the offered hand gingerly, giving it a small shake. “M-Midoriya Izuku.”
“Midoriya!” The boy — no, Kirishima — exclaims. “Wanna eat lunch together later?”
“Um. Okay.” Izuku wheezes, because he’s still not quite processing that this is real and happening.
The bell rings and Izuku glances around the classroom. He’s mortified to see a few students blatantly staring at them. Then again, his and Kirishima’s conversation had been almost entirely composed of exclamation points. And arm-waving. They probably looked ridiculous.
“Ah.” Kirishima seems to have realized, too, judging by how his cheeks turn pink. “Sorry, Midoriya. I can get too loud when I’m excited. I promise I’m not always like that!”
“Oh, n-no!” Izuku shakes his head, because why is Kirishima sorry? He’s done nothing wrong! “No, you’re completely fine! If anything, I should be the one apologizing! I-I ramble too much and have this bad mumbling habit, and I’m a nervous mess ninety-percent of the time —”
The door slams open, signaling the teacher’s arrival, and Izuku promptly clamps his mouth shut. Kirishima gives him an indecipherable look before turning back around, the rest of the class following suit. Izuku resists the urge to apologize again for running off his mouth again, but he doesn’t want to make a bigger scene than he already has.
He covers his face with his hands and sighs quietly. He’s probably scared off Kirishima, what with the look he gave him. That’s fine. He’s used to eating lunch alone, anyways.
He does his best to focus on the teacher’s explanation on the lesson plan for the year. Thankfully, Izuku’s always been a good student if he says so himself. Teachers have always praised his ability to focus. He absorbs the teacher’s words like a little academic sponge and almost entirely forgets about the boy in front of him.
Before he knows it, the bell rings for lunch. Izuku puts away his books as the rest of the class bursts into amicable noise, separating back into their respective cliques. His mom packed him his favorite, katsudon, as a good-luck meal for his first day. It’s the one good thing to come out of his disastrous morning. He’s in the middle of debating if he should just eat at his desk or find an empty corner to hide in when a shadow looms over his desk. He looks up to see Kirishima waiting expectantly with a smile.
“Ready to go?” Kirishima points upwards. “My friends and I agreed to meet on the roof.”
Izuku can’t help but gape. “You...were serious?” He asks slowly.
“About what?”
“About, um. Wanting to eat lunch together.”
Kirishima tilts his head, expression akin to that of a confused puppy. “Of course! Why wouldn’t I be serious?” Kirishima lowers his gaze, rubbing the back of his neck. “Unless you already have plans? If that’s the case, then —”
“No, that’s not it! Just, um.” Maybe the morning panic has worn him down enough that he doesn’t start rambling again, but he still feels jittery nonetheless. His hands twist in his uniform shirt. “I mean, if you already made plans with your friends, I wouldn’t want to impose.”
Kirishima shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it, dude! I texted them a few minutes ago and they’re totally cool with it! They’re just a couple friends from my hometown, no pressure.”
Izuku’s hands pause in their twisting (his mom will probably scold him for already getting his shirt all wrinkled, but oh well). It feels too good to be true. Kirishima actually wants to spend time with him? Not only that, but he wasn’t put off by Izuku’s...well, everything?
Then again, Kirishima still doesn’t know that Izuku is Quirkless.
Izuku’s heart drops to the bottom of his stomach. Right. He doesn’t know. No one knows yet that he’s Quirkless. Useless. Deku.
He peers up at Kirishima’s easy-going smile. There’s not a hint of dishonesty on that face. He really does want Izuku to join him and his friends for lunch.
And Izuku can’t find it in himself to refuse.
“Okay.” Izuku rises to his feet, lifting his backpack. “If it’s really okay.”
“It is.” Kirishima reassures him earnestly. “Don’t worry.”
Izuku nods, both to Kirishima and to himself. “Thank you.” He says shyly, feeling heat rise to his neck.
Kirishima slaps him on the back good-naturedly, eliciting a surprised yelp from Izuku. “Don’t sweat it! Hey, what’re you eating today? My mom packed me some karaage if you want some! Her karaage is the best, I swear.”
Izuku follows him out of the classroom, side by side. “R-Really? Thank you!” He does like karaage. “My mom makes the best katsudon! You can have some of mine too, if you want.”
“Oh man, I might take you up on that! It’s been so long since I’ve had good katsudon…”
As they walk together up the stairs, Izuku falls into an easy conversation with Kirishima. Without even realizing, his nerves slip away with each second they talk. Kirishima’s just so...bright. Lively. He never stops smiling, even when Izuku trips over his words or stumbles over his own two feet like the clumsy kid he is. In fact, he reaches out to steady Izuku with a gentle hand on the arm. Izuku wants to flinch away from his touch, but it’s so disarmingly gentle that he forgets to be afraid like he usually is.
They make it to the rooftop and Kirishima pushes open the door. There’s already a small group of two other boys lounging around who wave to Kirishima as they approach. “Hey guys! Guess what?” Kirishima extends an arm towards Izuku. “I’ve finally met someone who likes Crimson Riot, too!”
His friends snort into their food. “Is he as much of a hopeless fanboy as you are?” One of them teases.
“Hey!” Kirishima pouts, and it looks so ridiculous that Izuku stifles a giggle behind his palm. He doesn’t understand why Kirishima’s face seems to light up at his reaction. “You guys just don’t appreciate peak manliness. The manliest of all men!”
The other friend gives Izuku an amused smirk. “I apologize on Kiri’s behalf.” He says with an affectionate eye-roll. “Fair warning, he’s always going on about that manly stuff. Escape now while you can.”
Kirishima aims a playful punch at him, to which his friend easily blocks with his palm. “Anyways, it’s nice to meet you…”
“Midoriya Izuku.” He greets, feeling oddly at ease. He’d thought he’d feel more out of place, an outsider to a familiar dynamic, but Kirishima’s friends seem just as nice as he is. “It’s nice to meet you all. A-And I don’t mind! Crimson Riot is a really cool hero!”
The two friends groan simultaneously as Kirishima’s entire face practically glows. “ I told you!” Kirishima yells, waving his finger at his exasperated friends. Izuku can’t help the laughter bubbling at his throat, spilling over into his palm.
“My favorite hero is All Might, though.” Izuku confesses, unable to wipe the smile off his face. “He’s just the best.”
Kirishima is undeterred. If anything, his smile widens. “Oh yeah, I saw your keychain! All Might is really cool, too!”
The rest of the lunch period passes in a similarly chaotic manner. Izuku ends up babbling about his love for All Might for a bit too long, but Kirishima doesn’t seem to mind at all. Izuku shows Kirishima his Crimson Riot notes, as promised, and feels a rush of something warm and fuzzy when Kirishima heaps praise on the detailed sketch of the hero as well as Izuku’s meticulous note-taking. After a minute of pleading, Izuku relents to showing Kirishima the rest of his notebook. The two become lost in their own little world, chatting away excitedly. Izuku can’t help it. The anxiety is still there, simmering below the surface, but he’s never had someone he could just talk about this stuff with. His mother was his usual hearing board, but she usually just nodded and smiled and hummed to show she was listening. And Kacchan — well, Kacchan was Kacchan. Kirishima, though, matches Izuku’s energy with so much joy that it’s infectious.
“Hey,” Kirishima says eventually, after they remember that they actually have food to eat. “Wanna exchange phone numbers?”
So they do. They also exchange bites of their lunch with each other, and Izuku admits that Kirishima’s mom’s karaage really is that good. Kirishima has similar sentiments about Izuku’s mom’s katsudon, almost shedding a tear.
Later, as they’re walking back for their afternoon classes, Izuku realizes that not once during their conversation did their own Quirks come up. Izuku hadn’t asked, knowing that he’d get the question reflected right back at him and he still hasn’t figured out a good cover-up. But Kirishima didn’t ask either.
Come to think of it, whenever the topic of Quirks did start to come up, Kirishima seemed to change the subject rather quickly. Did he not want to talk about his Quirk? Or...maybe, just maybe, was he also Quirkless?
Izuku quickly shut that train of thought down. No. There was no way. Those shark-teeth have to be related to his Quirk somehow.
“Midoriya?” Izuku jolts, realizing they’re already back at their desks. And that he’s been mumbling under his breath again. Thankfully, Kirishima didn’t seem to have heard anything he said. “You good?”
“Yeah! Sorry.” Izuku bites his lip, wondering if he should just ask. He knows Kirishima will ask him, too, but his curiosity is burning at the edges. But maybe Kirishima doesn’t want to talk about it. Maybe he shouldn’t pry. Izuku doesn’t want to drive away what could be considered his first new friend, after all.
Plus, if they avoid the topic altogether, Kirishima won’t know Izuku is Quirkless.
He knows he’s only delaying the inevitable. At some point, Kirishima will find out. He’ll leave Izuku behind or treat him with disgust. Izuku won’t blame him. No one wants to be friends with the Quirkless kid, after all.
But until then, he’ll cherish this fragile, new bond for as long as he can. Sue him for being optimistic.