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Chapter Text

Izuku was lost. The funny thing about being lost is that it’s never intentional, it just kinda happens. One minute he was searching underneath cars for Mrs Nakamura’s lost cat and the next he was wondering the back streets of the Yokohama Kamino District. As a quirkless ten-year-old, there were some situations in life that Izuku knew he should steer away from.

Wondering the back streets of the Yokohama Kamino District should have been high up on that list.

Izuku was lost but he was not scared. He had faced scarier things, like Kacchan. So Izuku did what he always did in these types of situations; holding his head high, he smiled.

Kacchan had taught Izuku plenty of things about bravery, it was thanks to Kacchan that Izuku realised that facing danger with a smile instead of tears warranted weaker punches.

Izuku also came to understand, through observing those around him, that there was no such thing as villains and heroes (apart from All Might). Kacchan was praised for being heroic but in Izuku’s eyes Kacchan was mean. In the media’s eyes, his father was a villain, but to Izuku he was a dad, kind and playful.

In Izuku’s world, the lines between good and evil were always blurred. In Izuku’s world, there were no villains or heroes, just people who needed saving and those who did the saving. Izuku felt that one day someone would need him, villain or not, Izuku intended to help.

But first, he had a cat to find.

…

Cats were tricky to find apparently. Izuku had reassured Mrs Nakamura that he was the best at finding cats, after all he found his next-door neighbour’s cat Mr Snuffles in a back alley digging through the bins. But Izuku was starting to think that was a fluke.

He was getting deeper into Yokohama Kamino, the roads had become narrower and littered with holes. Izuku wished he had Cementoss’ quirk. Izuku also wished he had a useful quirk, like a quirk that attracted cats.

Izuku looked further on ahead.

There!

A ball of black fur skulked around the street corner, recognising it from the photograph Izuku had clutched in his hand, he took off running.

Izuku let out a small sigh of frustration, the cat had eluded him again! Fortunately, there wasn’t much place to escape. Izuku had followed the sneaky feline into a dead-end alley way, two buildings lined either side, blocking out the high mid-afternoon sun. Neither buildings seemed to occupy doors which Izuku found strange, what if someone mean wondered in?

Voices startled Izuku out of his door critique. They were coming from behind him, steadily approaching. Izuku’s breath quickened, he was brave but not stupid, he was only ten. His mother had told him stories about children going missing, how they were snatched up from their beds and from the streets if they weren’t careful enough.

Izuku looked frantically at the two buildings, Mrs Nakamura’s cat would have to wait for now, he needed to get somewhere safe. Placing his bets on the dimly lit “bar” sign Izuku dived quickly into its darkened hall way.

Kurogiri had been conscious for eight years. Two of those years he had been standing behind a bar, polishing glasses of villains who stumble in and out, but mostly cleaning up after Tomura. When Kurogiri had woke, being a glorified babysitter wasn’t what he expected his call-in life to be, he faintly remembers wanting something bigger, something louder and larger than his current situation. But he would listen to his Master because that’s all he had known.

Kurogiri had had plenty of strangers wonder in his bar. Strangers with covered faces, strangers dressed head to toe in weapons. Tiny children however, especially those with eyes wide and full of so much potential was not as common place.

How a tiny child wondered in to a villain pub will elude Kurogiri for many years to come, especially if that pub was situated in a part of town that young tiny children should simply not be.

“Your quirk! I’ve never seen one like it before? Are they flames no it can’t be it doesn’t feel hot maybe it’s a mutation quirk the mist does look like it’s a part of their body but what kind of mutation is it just a showy quirk or does it serve some kind of function oh boy I really wanna find out would it be rude to ask I supposed they’d be used to it with a quirk so unique?”

The tiny child in front of him remined him of when he first met Tomura. Tomura was a shy child, a scarred and deeply disturbed child. Constantly muttering under his breath, afraid to touch and be touched by those around him. Those almost endearing qualities were gone now of course, replaced by a childish ignorance to the workings of the world around him.

This child reminded him of the Tomura before ideas of conquest and victory were planted into his impressionable brain.

This child in front of him however, also couldn’t have been anymore different. Where Tomura was reserved and suspicious, this child was open and trusting, his eyes unjudging at the world around him. Kurogiri supposed he would keep tabs on this child too.

The child had stopped mumbling, instead opting to look at Kurogiri with unfiltered curiosity. Kurogiri took this chance to place a fresh glass of milk on the bar in front of him. The child’s gaze drifted to the glass and back up to Kurogiri, a wide smile appearing on his face.

Now the child was sitting in front of him, it was painfully clear how small he was. Some part of Kurogiri, a part that not even he was aware of twisted, a desire to protect something so innocent stirred within him. Different from the overpowering urge to protect Tomura, but the same nonetheless.

“Izuku!” the young boy in front of him announced suddenly, a small chubby hand stuck out in front of him.

Kurogiri took it with his own, careful not to activate his quirk. “didn’t your mother ever tell you to never give your name to strangers?”

The boy, Izuku, tilted his head sideways, confusion etched clearly on his small features.

“But you’re not a stranger, you gave me milk! You’re my friend!”

Kurogiri stopped polishing the glass in his hand and set it down gently. Unsure of how to respond to this onslaught of pure innocence, Kurogiri opted instead to show the child how his quirk worked.

Opening two portals, Kurogiri instructed Izuku to place his hand in one. Without hesitation the small child thrusted his hand through the portal, morbid curiosity lit up his face as his hand disappeared, appearing a way away on the other side of the room. Giggling, the young Izuku wiggled his fingers about.

For the second time in their short meeting, the child had left Kurogiri speechless. When first presented with Kurogiris’ quirk, villains and heroes alike will regard it with suspicion, will it cut them in half? Will they ever come out of it? But this child, this small, clearly lost child named Izuku placed blind faith in this stranger, Kurogiri felt like he should give some life advice.

“You are young, yet you are old enough to know that there are good people and bad people in this world? How are you so sure I am not a bad person. To put blind trust in another will only hurt you, it is a dangerous world out there, villains are around every corner, be careful not to let your innocence be the death of you”

Kurogiri gazed upon the child, confident that his message was clear.

The child Izuku gazed back, a thin film of milk rested on his upper lip, his eyes focused onto Kurogiri’s own. Resting a small fist on his own heart, Izuku spoke.

“You’re not a bad person, I can tell because you’re warm here”

Kurogiri was thankful in this brief moment that he was unable to physically express emotion. Kurogiri was a villain, a villain with no intention of changing or turning over a new leaf anytime soon, a villain soon to be second hand to the most notorious criminal mastermind man has seen in decades. A villain who had just been told by a tiny child that he wasn’t bad because his heart was warm.  

Kurogiri watched as Izuku swung round on his chair, his small body flying off it with ease. Smiling up at Kurogiri the young boy thanked him for the drink, declaring loudly that the scary men should have passed by now.

At the mention of ‘scary men’ Kurogiri wondered briefly if he should offer to teleport the young child home, he certainly wouldn’t deny the offer. But the child had already disappeared down the hallway, leaving the room just a bit emptier than when he arrived.

“Mrs Nakamura kitty I found you!” squealed a voice further down the hallway, “Lets get you home, I’m sure Mrs Nakamura misses you very much, disappearing on her like that! Naughty kitty”

Kurogiri woke up eight years ago, he is positive that his life started in the Doctors lab, but sometimes he feels, if only briefly, the twisted emotion of grief rattling inside his bones. Meeting the young Izuku reminded him of times long past, of times stolen. Kurogiri tries not to think too hard about the lingering memories underneath his cold skin, he had Tomura to care for now, if there was more to his past then he shall not pry, instead he will focus on creating a future for young Tomura and maybe young Izuku too.

Chapter Text

It hadn’t even been a week since Izuku stumbled into that old bar and yet he was faced with another peculiar person. 

Izuku loved meeting people, he loved watching how they talked, how they interacted with each other, but most importantly, their quirks. 

Izuku didn’t have a quirk, he was reminded of this by Kacchan everyday. The Doctor said there wasn’t any reason why he shouldn’t have a quirk, but sometimes things just happened. So, due to being effectively quirkless, Izuku lived vicariously through the people around him. 

This particular peculiar person was around his age. Izuku had never really talked to a girl before. He doesn’t really talk to anyone apart from Kacchan and his mum. He hears from the other boys in his class that girls are gross, he echoes that opinion to fit in. He doesn’t think much of girls though, only that they’re girls.

The girl was on the swing set, her legs swinging manically, matching her smile. Izuku thought it was a pretty smile, he got sad when people hid that they were happy, everyone deserves to be happy.

Izuku debated on whether or not he should take up the swing next to her. The swing was Izuku’s favourite, it made him feel like he was flying, and sometimes when he didn’t hold on tight enough he did. 

The girl was looking at him now, no not at him exactly but at his knee. Looking down Izuku noticed he was bleeding. That’s right, the reason he was at the park in the first place was to avoid going home. Kacchan had pushed him over after school, he could tell that Kacchan hadn’t meant to make him bleed because he could feel Kacchans guilt. He didn’t want to get Kacchan in trouble so he was going to clean it up in the park. 

Izuku couldn’t feel any hostility coming from her though so he quickly made his way over.

...

This boy was strange.

Himiko had been doing nothing all day, she had convinced her parents to let her stay off school because her tummy ached. Lies! Himiko actually had a nose bleed the night previous and she really really really couldn’t think of anything else! Himiko gave out a little stretch as she yawned, she had stayed up all night just staring at the blood. She didn’t taste it though. She was a good girl.

The boy was strange for a couple reasons. Firstly, he came to the park alone. Only lonely people came to the park alone. Like her. Was she lonely? Himiko didn’t know, she supposed the real Himiko was lonely, the fake one had lots of friends. But which one was she now? Aww this was all so confusing! 

Secondly he was staring at her. Himiko was used to stares. Horrified stares. Disgusted stares. But this stare was just that. A stare. No matter how hard she tried she couldn’t find a hint of emotion behind this boys eyes. Exciting! What kind of person was he? Simple? Complex? Type A? No he looked like a Type O kinda guy. Oooh she really wishes he was a Type O. 

His face was plain. Nothing to look at really. Himiko wasn’t anything to look at either, not unless she was smiling. When she smiled people looked, or stared. Mostly stared. She couldn’t help it, her smile split her face in half, her mother had told her off, said it made her look crazy. Himiko didn’t appreciate being called crazy.

It was everyone else who was crazy. Living together quietly, saying hellos and goodbyes, loving each other just enough. That was crazy. Everyone around her lived in a constant state of lies. Denying themselves of their fullest emotions. Himiko thought everyone should love like she loves. 

Himiko first fell in love with a bird. Apparently you can only love other people but Himiko knew it was love. So overwhelming, so bloody and intense. Himiko loved the way it twitched in her hands, how the blood felt slick and warm, how the feathers and bone intertwined in unnatural ways. She loved it so much she just wanted to eat it. To consume it. To be it. Thats how people should love. 

The boy had a cut on his knee. Himiko was smiling, she got carried away with her thoughts, it was too late now. Fake Himiko was long gone, put on reserve for when she got home. Real Himiko was front and present! Ready for service! Ready to tackle this poor plain boy to the ground so he can produce more red stuff! 

Himiko didn’t notice but the boy was on the swing next to her. He was swinging a bit, his hands barely holding on. He kinda remind her of a broccoli. Himiko giggled to herself, she wasn’t particularly fond of broccoli but she had a feeling she could deal. 

The boy had turned his head when Himiko was laughing. Himiko turned, her smile faltered. Just like Himiko the boy was plain until he smiled. Unlike Himiko, the boys smile was pure. Not pure as in, I hold doors open for old ladies, even Himiko does that sometimes. But pure as in, you could confess to dozens of murders but as long as you promised to redeem yourself you were a good person. 

Pure and naive.

This kid is gunna get himself killed.

The boys smile lessened slightly, confusion swept over his features but disappeared quickly in favour of curiosity. 

Himiko squirmed in her swing. Breaking eye contact, favouring to look at his injured knee. 

“Do you hate blood?”

Himiko shook her head sideways, no she definitely didn't hate blood.

“Oh” the boy murmured. 

Himiko was used to this reaction, people, especially adults, would often confuse her excitement with discomfort, promptly removing any cuts or scrapes from her view. Much to her disappointment.

“Oh! Do you love blood? I love heroes but everyone says I- I can’t be one, they say it’s impossible, they say I’m weird for even dreaming about it” the boys face fell, the toe of his foot creating miscellaneous shapes in the soft dirt beneath them. “Do people call you weird too? For liking blood I mean? They shouldn’t, you should be able to like what ever you want.”

Interesting! Yes he was interesting! 

“I love it! It’s the best! Himiko threw her hands in the air. She had never said it out loud before. Always being her dirty little secret. It felt refreshing somehow, freeing. Like he was a priest and she was a dirty dirty sinner. Could ten year olds sin?

Himiko giggled again, clasping her hands together she leant forward. 

“Can I taste it”

The boy regarded her for a moment before looking down at his knee. Himiko could see it was starting to scab over, which was sad. She wondered what the boy would do, obviously any boring person wouldn’t let her taste their blood. She wondered if he was normal too, sure he was interesting but normal people could be interesting sometimes too.

The boy reached into his bag and grabbed a tissue and a water bottle. Himiko sat back and watched curiously. She dare to make a sound. 

The boy soaked the tissues in water and started dabbing around the now clotting cut. The mud and tiny pebbles were being washed of gradually, leaving behind angry pink skin. The boy then did something unexpected. Turning the tissue to his nails, the boy rubbed them clean. 

Himiko furrowed her brows, he hadn’t answered her question, the lack of an outright ‘no’ had thrown her off slightly. 

The boy reached down to his knee again. His fingers gingerly touched the cut then looked at his fingers. Himiko could see no blood on them, she sighed in disappointment. For a second there she really thought he was going to say-

Oh.

Oh.

Interesting! 

Blood was running freely down the boys knee again. His fingernails bloody from where he had dug into his own wound. 

Himiko liked this boy. Like? No. Himiko loved this boy. Loved him. Blood was such a precious thing, a beautiful thing. An intimate thing. And this boy was willing to share. 

The boy offered out his leg. Quickly Himiko placed her fingers onto the freshly open cut, she pressed hard, she wanted more. The boy squirmed in discomfort but didn’t verbally protest. His eyes were devoid of judgement either, the same curiosity was still swirling around. 

Himiko reluctantly pulled her fingers away, gently pressing them against her lips. 

It reminded her of her favourite sweet, if her favourite sweet was blood flavoured. 

Himiko danced a little in her swing, it just felt so right, so natural. She craved blood like a cat craved mice. So instinctual and raw. 

“Your quirk? D- does it have something to do with blood?” 

It was Himikos turn to regard the boy with curiosity. 

No one had asked her such a thing before, ‘monster’ and ‘are you sick?’ were the crowds favourites. But no one, not even her parents had asked her that. Himiko slapped her head, noting that the blood was still on her fingers. Hell! Even Himiko never thought of that!

“Maybe! I don’t know my quirk yet!” Himiko licked off the remaining blood of her hands, consciously deciding to leave the rest on her forehead.

It was like someone announced All Might was near because the lights in the boys eyes lit up. Himiko assumed his favourite hero would be All Might, because of course it would. 

“Really! Thats great! I- i mean, not great but umm, I don’t know my quirk either” the boy looked down shyly, the palms of his hands pressed firmly onto his shorts. “It’s great because you’re umm, not uhh, i mean, I’m not. Alone.” the last word was spoken so softly that Himiko would have missed it if she wasn’t concentrating so intensely on this strange boy in front of her.

“My name is Himiko” 

The boy watched bewildered as she got up. Dusting the mud off her skirt she held out her hand. The manic grin was back on her face but she knew the boy wouldn’t mind. 

The boy returned it with his own. 

The sight of the two must be strange, a girl with a crazy smile with blood on her face and a boy with a kind smile and blood on his knee, shaking hands. 

“Izuku” the boy said.

“See you around Zuzu!”

Himiko looked forward to it.

Chapter Text

Izuku was eleven and didn’t have any friends.

Izuku supposed he shouldn’t mind as much, after all, he hadn’t had any friends since he was four years old. Not since his quirk didn’t develop. Izuku remembered going to the doctors every year with his mum. His hand always firmly grasping her own. Every time the doctor would confirm Izuku’s greatest fears, and every time Izuku’s grip got just that bit looser. When his eighth birthday came around, he had asked his mum if they were going to the doctors, just in case. But his mum had looked at him with so much sadness and just simply apologised. It was innocent enough. A simple sorry. But Izuku heard the meaning underneath.

Sorry you won’t get to be a hero.

Sorry you won’t be accepted into our society.

Sorry I failed you.

Izuku finally understood his father on that day. Izuku understood why his father did what he did. Izuku understood why his father burned and screamed and destroyed. His father simply did what was expected of him, a villainous quirk bread villainous intention.

Izuku had always admired his father. He was always warm, always smiling. But even from a young age Izuku could see the defeat in his eyes. His father would often tell him ‘Even when the road you want to take is blocked, blocked by the people you love, by people you hate, by the people who walk past you on the street. Even if that road is blocked, you just smile and you push right past them, knock them down if need be. No one but you get to decide who you are. Don’t make the same mistakes your old man did.”

Izuku often frowned at the “knock them down” part. Izuku wanted to be a hero, heroes didn’t hurt people. Heroes were supposed to love, protect and encourage.

But when he saw his dad on live TV being apprehended by the hero Endeavour, being apprehended as a villain. Izuku’s world view had shifted.

His dad was a villain, but he loved, protected and encouraged Izuku.

Kacchan wanted to be a hero, but he hurt, scared and bullied Izuku.

So, when his mum had apologised and the underlining message of ‘you can’t be a hero’ had been painfully heard. Izuku had made up his mind.

He didn’t want to be a hero.

He didn’t want to be a villain.

He just wanted to help people.  

So Izuku did, he helped his neighbours find their cats. He’d help those who needed it across roads. He’d stand in front of those who were bullied and when Kacchan would tell him he couldn’t be a hero because he had no quirk, Izuku would nod and agree because he didn’t want to be a hero and he didn’t care if he was quirkless, he would make the world just that bit more kinder for those who had to live in it.

Maybe that’s why he was buying instant Miso Ramen at 10pm after a stranger had complained about being too broke to afford it.

…

Izuku had met some interesting people the eleven years he’d been alive. The first time was when he had stumbled into that bar and met the man with the teleportation quirk, the second time was when that girl wanted to lick his knee. It had been a while since he had seen the latter, Izuku was disappointed but not surprised when she never sought him out again. Izuku was used to empty promises.

Izuku thought it would make him bitter. His dad leaving him, his mum not believing in him, his lack of friends, Kacchan’s insistent bullying, society telling him that he will never achieve anything. But all Izuku felt was the faint buzz of understanding. He understood why his dad had to leave, understood why his mum made him feel so hopeless and why Kacchan would call him a worthless deku. They didn’t have a choice, no one had a choice, it was expected of them. This world that they lived in and the society that they created stepped on the quirkless, villainised certain quirks and held up the riotous violence. Everyone was a product of their environment. Apart from Izuku.

Izuku constantly felt like he was watching everything unfold from the side-lines. He was alone now but he knew that there were people who saw the things he saw. There must be, he’d already figured out how the world worked and he was only eleven.

Izuku’s neutral stance on everything and everyone had greatly impacted his mother’s teachings of ‘stranger danger’ which was why he had no qualms wondering through dark allies trying to find that ramen man.

Izuku had heated it up and everything but it took longer than he was expecting so when he walked back outside the stranger was gone. In hindsight he should have told the stranger what he was doing but people didn’t tend to accept handouts unless they were forced into their hands and Izuku had a feeling the man would have left either way.

The man couldn’t have gone that far? Izuku had seen the man come from one of the alleyways on the left as he had approached the family mart, so surely, he would have gone back down it?  

Izuku didn’t have to wonder long because up ahead was the man, he was fishing for something in his pockets which turned out to be a pack of cigarettes. Placing one in his mouth, the stranger lifted his finger, a blue flame flickered gently just above. Izuku had never seen flames like that. He’d seen his dad’s flames but they were orange and powerful, but this flame was delicate and beautiful.

Izuku decided that someone who could create something so captivating couldn’t be dangerous.

…

Toya didn’t like heroes and naturally, anything heroic. Help an old lady with a door? No thanks. Help a blind person cross a street? Natural selection. Safe to say, heroics had never sat well with him. He had his reasons, good ones of course. But Toya was willing to do a 180 on his downright venomous opinions of heroes because this tiny (could children be this small?) child how was holding the last good thing this world had to offer and he was offering it to him. Hell, maybe heroes to exist.

Maybe this kids quirk had something to do with understanding deep, innate and high key animalistic desires from a person because Toya definitely had an innate, animalistic desire for the freshly cooked miso ramen the boy had graciously offered him.

The kid seemed eager for him to accepted it so Toya dropped his freshly lit cigarette on the floor. Toya sighed, he couldn’t afford to waste a barely touched cigarette, in fact, he could barely afford anything. But plenty of low life thugs had cancer sticks on them so he’d just beat one down later.

The kid seemed relived once the ramen was out of his hands. Toya considered for a moment if this kid was actually an underground hero who drugged this bowl of goodness in order to apprehend him. Toga then stopped that particular train of thought because the kid’s eyes held nothing but unyielding awe.

“how old are you kid?” Toya’s voice was rough from disuse. His refusal to admit he had a nicotine addiction didn’t help much either.

“Eleven!” the kid said proudly. Huh, he had a brother about that age.

Toya didn’t want to ask the obvious, he really didn’t, but this whole situation was just too strange.

“Sorry kid, not that I don’t appreciate it but why?” Toya lifted the bowl of ramen up.

The boy had the nerve to looked confused, as if giving ramen to a stranger, a stranger who had literal staples holding their skin together, was a perfectly normal thing.

“well, I h-heard you outside the shop and I- I had some money left over you see, and I didn’t really um n-need the rest so I brought this for you”

Toya nodded. That didn’t explain anything. No normal, sane child or adult would follow a suspicious looking man through dark alleyways to give them a bowl of ramen. It just? Didn’t happen?

“Were you trying to be a hero kid? You know you should leave that to the grownups” Toya didn’t often dish out advice but the clear lack of self-preservation this kid seemed to have put him on edge.

“Oh” the boy said, tilting his head like Toya had just said something utterly stupid. “I wasn’t trying to be a hero; I was just trying to h-help.”

“Aren’t those things mutually exclusive?”

“No.”

“Huh.”

To say this kid was interesting was an understatement. For a kid so young he seemed to have some pretty realistic views on heroes.

Toya moved to sit down on the bench that was a few feet away. He was getting pretty tired with just standing there, plus his ramen was getting colder and he was hungry. Clicking his finger, Toya held a gentle blue flame near the ramen. He couldn’t expose the plastic directly to his flame otherwise he’d be stapling some more bits of skin together.

Toya assumed the kid had left by now, naturally when someone walks away and starts eating it symbolises the end of a conversation. Toya assumed the kid didn’t even know the definition of common sense because the kid was just standing there, looking at him, with the same awe as earlier.

“What.” Toya snapped, dirty looks, scared looks, pained looks. Those he could deal with. It was rare for any positive attention to be thrown his way and as sad as it sounded, Toya just didn’t know how to deal.

The kid didn’t seem to notice his growing discomfort, instead opting to speak the words that Toya didn’t even realise he wanted to hear.

“your fire, it’s pretty.”

The kid stepped closer to Toya who was thoroughly immobilised. The kid seemed to have taken Toya’s silence as confirmation to keep talking.

“I-I’ve seen many fire quirks on the TV and s-stuff. They’re all so l-loud and bright. My dad has a fire quirk, he’s like a dragon you see! He b-breathes It out when he’s angry and he’s always angry but never at me or mum that’s why we call him a dragon you see, because he protects what’s close to him. I’ve seen fire quirks protect and destroy but I-I haven’t seen one as delicate as yours”

Delicate.

Delicate.

Toya actually laughed out loud. This kid was a riot for sure. Apparently laughing wasn’t the way to go because the kid started pouting.

“Sorry kid” Toya said, calming down a little “just that, I wouldn’t describe my fire as delicate. My fire can only be used to burn.”

The kid stopped pouting then. Toya suddenly felt like he had said something wrong. Which was ridiculous, but the frown the kids face was supporting said otherwise.

“They told my dad that his fire was only meant to burn, to hurt people. They saw how destructive his quirk was and deemed him evil. They saw what they wanted to see and forced that upon him. But to me, his quirk was reassurance, that I’d always be safe. But he’s gone now, because people expecting one thing from him and hated him when he became that. I’m sure when you first found your quirk you found it beautiful.”

The kid didn’t stutter once. The look in his eyes became stern, like he was lecturing a wayward child. In some ways he was, Toya was barely twenty and sometimes he felt bitter that his childhood was stolen from him, that his innocence was torn away from him like his skin. But it was better now, he was away from that. Away from it all. Sometimes he missed that winged pricked, but only sometimes, not enough to sugar-coat the literal torture he was put through, all for the sake of being a hero.

His quirk wasn’t something he would consider beautiful now, but he had to give the kid points for accuracy. When his quirk first came in, he was four. Like all kids with quirks, finding out he had one was a blessing in itself. Society didn’t take kindly to the quirkless.

When the blue flames danced in his palm, flickering to a steady beat, it mesmerised him. His fathers fire quirk was a deep rich red, he had always looked up to his father, saw him as strong and dependable, like his flames. When Toya saw his flames for the first time, it reminded him of his mother. Something about the paleness and the wispy way his flames moved reminded him of the kindness in his mothers’ eyes, how she’d place her cool hand on the scuffs on his knees from playing too hard.

His father soon put that misconception straight. His fire was not beautiful. It was dangerous and powerful. Nothing good came from his flames, nothing ever could.

“Do you have a fire quirk?” He looked at the kid, it was common for children to inherit their parent’s quirks after all, it wouldn’t be too much of a leap to assume this kid had one.

The kid looked down, his composure falling slightly.

“No, apparently I don’t have a quirk” the kid whispered.

Oh.

Oh, that makes sense, his views on the world had clearly been shaped by the very obvious fact that he simply didn’t belong. Being quirkless was simply unheard of, 80% and rising had a quirk, no matter how big or how useless. Having none at all was a recipe for failure. It was almost as bad as having a villainous quirk. Almost.

“That sucks kid” Toya honestly didn’t know what else to say in this situation, he was bad enough with children as it is, especially upset ones. Plus, he was getting anxious, should this kid even be out this late? It was like what? Nearing eleven pm? If some cop or pro hero made their way through here it would surely raise some suspicion.

“I-it may s-suck” the kid took a deep breath. It was clear his stutter was back in full force, Toya wondered if it was genetic or pure emotional trauma behind it. “I-it may suck, b-b-but that wont s-stop me. I will h-help anyone who n-needs it. Hero or villain.”

Toya raised his brows at that last statement. Hero or villain huh. This kid would be interesting to watch.

Toya threw a genuine smile the kids’ way. He had a suspicion, well no, a gut feeling that this kid would turn into something the rest of them couldn’t. Toya wasn’t one for following anyone, but he’d wait around to see what this kid would do. Would he break down the rotting and corrupt hero system from the inside? Would he rebel and start a movement from the outside? The possibilities were endless.

He'd keep an eye out for the kid, make sure he didn’t die before then.

“You better scram kid. Don’t you have people who are worried for you?”

The kid smiled and nodded.

“It was n-nice to meet you! I’m g-glad I got to s-see such pretty f-flames up close.” With that the boy skipped away, the plastic bag he was gripping in his left-hand bumping into his calf.

What a strange kid.

Chapter Text

Izuku asked for a game boy for his twelfth birthday. A second hand one of course, he didn’t want his mum to spend more than was necessary. Unfortunately, Izuku couldn’t play on it straight away because he had no games to play on it. His mum apologised and promised to nip to the shops later and purchase him a few games but Izuku reassured her that it was okay. He was a big boy now (he had been for a while but she didn’t know that) he could buy the games himself.

Izuku loved his mum. It was the kind of love that would be considered an ‘ultimate weakness’ of Izuku’s if he was some overly super powered hero. Izuku often day dreamed about his ‘ultimate weakness’ back when he still had fleeting fantasies of becoming a great hero, he’d analyse different ways of saving her, of keeping her safe. Would he fly in and swoop her off her feet, zooming off into the sunset? Would he tear through buildings, knocking villains left and right all to save her? When Izuku was little(er) him and his mum would re-enact his plans, Izuku knowing that no matter what, he would always save her. But then his mum had said something, something that Izuku never thought about before.

‘Would you still save me even if it meant other people would get hurt’

Would he?

If he saved his mum but people got hurt, or worse died, what would he be?

A hero?

A villain?

A son trying to save his mum?

It felt as though all his life lessons so far had shook his core ideas on what a hero should be. Did he want to be a hero if that meant his mum would die?

Izuku didn’t know.

But Izuku was quirkless so his ultimate weakness was no longer needed, because he himself was weak.

…

Izuku went to say goodbye to his mum, the game shop would be closing in an hour and it was a twenty-minute walk. His mum rushed over to him, worrying hands buttoning up his jacket, fixing his hat and scarf. Izuku had forgot his gloves and was scolded briefly, it was cold outside after all. Now with every bare part of his skin covered Izuku turned to leave.

“Wait! Just one more thing my baby!”

His mum pushed a small backpack into his hands. Izuku smiled gratefully at his mum, this was all to keep him safe after all. His mum listed off the items in the bag; tissues, hand sanitiser, pepper spray, an emergency phone, £20 emergency money, hand cream, an energy bar, a bottle of water. You would be forgiven in thinking Izuku was going on a long hike and not just down the street.

But he was quirkless. He needed to be protected.

Izuku loved his mum but his mum was also the reason he threw himself into strangers’ problems. He needed to prove that he was capable of looking after others and not just being looked after.

…

The faint glow of florescent lights alerted Izuku that he was at the game store, the long walk in the cold had messed up his body temperature, his hands and feet were numb but his core body was burning up. Izuku unwrapped his scarf and shoved it into his bag.

Stepping into the shop Izuku was grateful for the warm rush of air that greeted him. All game stores smelled the same, a musky scent that seemed to be exaggerated by the dim lighting.

Izuku made his way through the aisles, the store was just about empty as it was nearing the closing time. His fingers lingered on a few CDs that caught his eye. Izuku wished he had enough money to purchase them. Money had always been an issue at home, after his father had been arrested, income had stopped flowing into their banks. Yes, it was an illegal source of income and if Izuku’s moral compass swung just a bit righter then he would have felt relieved that he was no longer breaking the law, but Izuku had always been a bit in the left so he just felt a tiny bit bitter.

“This one’s better ya know”

Izuku turned around in the direction the raspy voice had come from. A teenager, probably around 18 was gingerly holding some retro level game in between two very dry fingers. It was a peculiar sight but also a painful one. Momentarily Izuku remembered his mum’s handy packing. Slinging his bag off his shoulder, ignoring the quizzical look the elder teen was giving him, Izuku fished around at the bottom of his bag.

“here”

As Izuku reached out to place the hand cream in the others hand, a passing thought of “I am being weird right now” floated lazily through his brain. But Izuku was always doing weird stuff, like letting that girl taste some of his blood, so he wasn’t too worried.

Oh.

Izuku watched as his hand cream turned to dust.

Amazing.

Izuku had never seen a quirk like that before ‘how does it work? if he’s holding the game in his right hand with only two fingers that means that it activates when a certain number of fingers is touching the object? Most commonly its five which makes it difficult to perform ordinary tasks without some sort of support item but he doesn’t seem to be wearing any so either he just prefers not to wear any or his quirk is so strong it would just dust any item away? Either way that’s so cool, I’ve never seen a quirk quite like it i- ‘

“look kid, I got things to do, don’t let me regret wasting time on this side quest just for you to go all psycho on me”

Izuku’s mouth snapped shut, a shameful blush creeping up from his neck.

“ah who am I kidding kid, be as creepy as you want, I mean, look at me” as if to emphasise his point the strange teen started to absently scratch at his neck.

The game was still being thrusted towards him so Izuku took it gratefully, sighing in relief that it was in his price range.

“oh, it’s multiplayer” Izuku mumbled dejectedly. A sharp pang of emotion struck through his chest. Every year it was the same. He’d move up into a new year, into a new school and it was all the same. Like a hellish routine that Izuku couldn’t get out of. Not that he cared of course, why should he. Izuku didn’t want to be friends with children who couldn’t see past how societies suffocating indoctrination of hero worship has brought prejudice onto the minority of quirkless people.

“that’s some heavy stuff kid” the teen had a grin on his face that Izuku’s mind supplied as deranged, “say, do you hate heroes?” the teens lip curled downwards in disgust, almost chocking out the word ‘hero’ like a disease that plagued his tongue.

Izuku widened his eyes in surprise. ‘Do I hate heroes’ it was a thought that wouldn’t stop echoing throughout his brain. He had never been asked that, in a society where heroes are seen as ultimately good, the question was normally ‘do you love heroes. Izuku always had an issue with that phrasing, ‘love’ does he ‘love’ heroes. Honestly, no, he doesn’t ‘love’ heroes. But he didn’t hate them either.

“Heroes arrested my dad, so, I don’t like them, but I don’t think I hate them” Izuku chewed his lip in thought, it had been a while since he held a genuinely interesting conversation with a real-life person before. “I think I hate the society that created them more.” Sighing, Izuku put the game down, he was glad he could organise his thoughts on this whole hero thing, even if it was with a complete stranger.

Said stranger didn’t look displeased or impressed with the answer Izuku gave. He was just silent, fingers still moving roughly up and down his neck. He seemed to scan Izuku up and down, as if trying dive deeper into the words that just exited the smaller boys’ mouth.

“that’s one way of looking at it” was his decided reply. “personally, I think all heroes should rot in hell, especially that All Might, with his big smile and inflated ego, heroes nowadays only swoop in when there’s cash involved, I want to tear it all down.”

Izuku’s brain helpfully pointed out several inconsistencies with what the grey-haired teen just said, but Izuku decided there wasn’t much of a point trying to persuade him to think otherwise, just like the teen hadn’t infringed on Izuku’s own opinion, Izuku decided he wouldn’t either.

Izuku pulled at his bottom lip, trying to find some sort of reply to that loaded speech.

“If I buy a game with both single and multiplayer, would you umm, would you want to play it with me”

Fingers stilled over tender skin momentarily, as the teen seemed to struggle with understanding at the kid’s words.

“uh, sure”

…

When Izuku returned home that night, snow had started falling, soft white flakes landing on the bridge of his nose. The scarf removed from the bag and wrapped tightly around his neck just like it had been earlier. A small smile rested comfortably on his face, he felt warm despite the weather, a sort of warm Izuku hadn’t felt before, it was nice, he wanted to hold onto it forever, he could almost pretend he was still there, beating the teen, laughing as he got riled up at every accumulated loss.

The conversation they had earlier into their meeting slipped into the front of his thoughts, the teen, like him, obviously had his life turned around by some well-meaning hero, or maybe the absence of one. His views were concerning, they concerned Izuku, not because he didn’t agree with the entirety of what he was preaching about, it concerned him because he had them in the first place.

It made him angry, and that anger made him uncomfortable, made him feel weaker than he already was. It made him want to do something, something to help those who had needed saving, save people so they didn’t have to think like that teen did.

But as the dull grey of his apartment building appeared around the corner the warm feeling in his chest left, the faint ambers all but disappearing, Izuku remembered that he could do nothing, he was quirkless. Not that it bothered him of course, he was used to being quirkless, used to having no friends. It didn’t bother him at all.

...

Later that day:

Shigaraki sat on the bar stool, hunched over in his normal position, three fingers on each hand grabbing the console awkwardly. It was so irritating, he couldn’t get that insignificant kid out of his head, and this stupid level was so difficult.

“You seem agitated”

Shigaraki clenched his hand in annoyance, the console crumbling away, the dust remains falling through his fingers.

“ah fuck, look what you made me do Kurogiri, get me another one.”

Shigaraki watched, bored, as his caretaker? Free lifetime travel service? Whatever he was, fetched him a new consol. Now that Shigaraki thought about it, it was actually all that little brat’s fault, those wide eyes and greenhorn like attitude poked a part of Shigaraki that he hated, he wanted to destroy it. Wanted it gone.

God he was so fucking itchy. Itchy all the time, but when he was talking to that kid, it was like the itch was gone, yes, he scratched his neck but that was more out of habit than anything else if he was going to be honest with himself. It made him want to itch more now that he thought of it, not even sensei had managed to stop the itch, no he had managed to make it worse in a way.

“You seem distracted more than usual Shigaraki? May I enquire on what has happened”

Christ when had Kurogiri gotten so talkative huh? Nosey sod, always shoving his face into business that wasn’t his.

“There was a kid, at the game store, a freaky one” Shigaraki commented offhandedly.

“Oh, really?” Shigaraki’a eyes squinted at the get outta jail free card suspiciously. Contrary to popular belief, Shigaraki was smart, he knew when someone was fainting interest, especially if that someone displayed a grand total of two emotions.

“yeh really. Know any tiny kids walking around with the moral backbone of a jelly fish whilst simultaneously radiating energy comparable to the fucking sun?”

Shigaraki watched in keen interest and Kurogiri glanced over at the milk situated in the fridge behind him. God why was he surrounded by such creeps.

“Well, there was one child who fits your description, a few years ago, he had wondered in, quite surprising really, I think he was looking for a cat”

Shigaraki itched his neck faster, sounds like something stupid that kid would do.

“Have you come into contact with the boy?”

Shigaraki grunted in reply, not wanting to indulge the escape pod in anyway, he was asking far too many questions, who gave him the right to question Shigaraki like that? Whatever, it wasn’t like there was anything else to do.

“We played video games, I lost, stupid brat, I want to destroy him.”

A hum was all that Shigaraki was responded with.

Irritating.

This was all so irritating.

Chapter Text

Unlike most days that week, the day had turned out to be an unbearably hot one. It was the kind of day where clear early morning skies promised sharp cold weather, only to betray those in sweaters later on.

It had taken Izuku all his might to keep his jumper on, even now under the shade of a rather large, old tree, could he feel the dampness on the back of his neck. All he could do was pull at the neckline in hopes of colder comforts.

If Kacchan hadn’t…

No.

It really wasn’t his fault.

They were only children, malleable, impressionable children.

Granted one was an overly powered malleable and impressionable child and the other was, well, him. But blaming Kacchan for everything he does would be akin to blaming a dog for fighting when they have been encouraged to do so their entire lives.

No, he did not blame Kacchan.

He blamed-

“Oh no no no this isn't good, where is it where is it? I don’t need jack shit!”

Sometimes, Izuku wonders if this is his quirk. He has a unique talent for simply existing in the same places as some of the most eccentric people he’s sure to ever exist.

Or maybe he was just lucky.

Or unlucky.

Depended on who you asked.

His mother for example, if she found out the sort of people he talked to, well, she would never let him leave his house ever again.

But Izuku loved this. Loved helping these people, loved tearing down the walls of expectation that these individuals built up, the expectations that they were isolated in their struggles.

Alone.

This was his purpose in life, what made him strive forward in a world made only to hold him back. To help the people false heroes neglect in their effort to be number one.

There was only one number one.

Izuku could write books upon books of how vain and conceited modern-day heroes where, how the obsession to claw their way up the ranks left behind them a trial of bloody mistakes and broken lives. He didn’t understand why they even bothered.

The symbol of peace on the other hand, was someone Izuku admired, strived to be.

A true hero.

“My face, I need to cover my face. No, I'm going to split. Woohoo!”

Unfortunately for everybody who cared for Izuku, ‘everybody’ consisting of one singular person, the concept of danger was completely and utterly foreign to him. Unconsciously he was aware that people and things around him could be dangerous, but he couldn’t help but feel as though it was all a lie.

Ever since he was five years old, a full year of agonising, waiting for his quirk to just develop already, his mother had deemed the outside world too dangerous for him. It was as if the world had been closed from him at the very beginning of his life.

Playing in the park was dangerous.

Playing in the street was dangerous.

Going to the shops was dangerous.

Walking was dangerous.

People were dangerous.

Who could blame him if he believed it was all a lie? It had to be a lie. All these “shady characters” (as his mum would put it) he’s met, in creepy bars, parks, video game stores and back alleyways had all felt, warm. It was like Izuku could almost feel a flickering warmth inside of them, like a small candle flame, sputtering in the wind. He could feel it grow when he spoke with them, feel it get stronger and then weaker as they parted ways, but not as weak as before. He had thought, that maybe this was his quirk, but how could he explain it to his mum? ‘Hi mum, I think I have a quirk which lets me know if people are not that evil because I keep going out of my way to interact with people that look evil <3’

Yeah right.

“I think I left it over here. No behind you!”

Izuku scanned the area around him with his eyes, it was just a bit past the end of school so he could see kids in the distance playing with their friends, no one was around his immediate area, thankfully, and it was just full of trash, like that beach across town.

Izuku turned his body to the left, in case the voice was coming from behind. His noise perception had gone a bit skewwhiff in recent years thanks to the loud explosions caused by Kacchan’s quirk. Rustling behind him confirmed his hunch.

Getting up Izuku stretched out his limbs, sighing in satisfaction at the popping in his shoulder. The walk to the bushes behind him was a short one, the meeting of his eyes with the strangers was even shorter.

The man was, in polite terms, quite scary looking. His dishevelled hair was greasy, plastered onto parts of his forehead, said forehead had sweat dripping down its sides, rolling into a rather patchy and prickly beard. His nose was crooked but only slightly, his lips were cracked and eyes were bloodshot but the most noticeable feature was the rather painful looking thick, dark pink scar that separated the left and right sides of his forehead.

“H- hello”

“Whattsup kid. Go away”

“umm, d-do you need help with anything?”

“I need my mask, my mask so I don’t split. I’m telling you kid, seriously, walk away. I have a knife.”

“I can help you, look, I mean, if you want that, I um, can help”

“Okay. No definitely not.”

The man resumed his scratching, pulling painfully at the raw patches of skin on his cheeks. Izuku winced.

Looking around Izuku could see why this man was struggling to find anything. The surrounding area was thick was shrubbery and weeds, it was a wonder how they were even walking through it without being stung by something suspicious. The man was still beside himself, contradicting every statement that left his mouth. Was it his quirk? Izuku had come across backlashes from quirks before but never as severe as this.

“Do you know when you may have lost it?” inquired Izuku, so far, the search had turned up nothing, just more twigs and a few unfortunate encounters with bugs.

With no reply, Izuku turned to where the man was a few moments ago. Instead of searching, the man was leaning against a tree, head in hands, fingertips tugging at the loose strands of hair that fell within reach. It was looked, painful.

“Umm, sir, sorry if this is um, why do you need your mask exactly, if you don’t mind me asking”

Unlike earlier the man didn’t stop his scratching, Izuku was doubtful that he had even been heard at all but the mumbling become more coherent as Izuku approached.

“I’m me, me me, I’m me, I need to cover my face to be whole again, no I’m me! Let’s go party!”

Cover his face huh? He could get behind that. Covering such an open part of yourself could be nothing short of comforting, safe.

“Would anything do? To cover your face, I mean? I can, if you don’t mind, I can give you my um sweater? Maybe?”

“I’m me I’m me I’m me”

Deciding that wasn’t a no Izuku stripped off his jumper, turning it inside out so the man didn’t have to be assaulted by his sweat. Further conversation with this man would most likely prove fruitless so Izuku opted with simply chucking it over the man’s head.

The reaction was instant. The man pulled Izuku’s sweater taunt against his face so tightly that Izuku could see the dent of his nose.

Grabbing the two sleeves the man then wrapped them around his neck, securing the makeshift mask securely in place.

“Woah did someone turn off the lights!”

“Uh no sorry that’s just my jumper”

Izuku observed the man quietly, he seemed less frantic, surer of himself in the way he stood, no longer slouching but shoulders broad now, the muscle definition that was hid by his bad posture poked out from beneath his shirt, making him look ten times larger than Izuku’s own frame.

“I can, um, I have scissors, so I can cut some eyes out? Maybe?”

“Go right ahead kid, just make sure you don’t stab me in my eyes. To be stabbed would be a shame, it’s important to keep all body functions at a hundred percent!!”

“Um, right yes, let me just”

Izuku reached into his school bag, fishing around at the bottom for his school assigned scissors, right-handed scissors, because the school didn’t want to accommodate to his left handedness. Not like that was an issue, he had started practicing with writing with his right ever since he realised, he needed less things for kids to pick on.

Izuku tugged on the man’s shoulder to pull him down to a comfortable height.

“Wow a child? I knew your voice sounded young how old are you 10? You’re the same size as a cat! Too young to be wondering this world alone, the youth stray too far from the light”

“Oh no, I’m 13, I’m not a child”

“Sounds like something a child would say! One is always a child at heart, to grow old is to lose yourself!”

Izuku let out a small giggle at the man’s antics, the warm feeling he got was very strong even a bit unsure like a firepit being constantly doused in water. He never spent a lot of time before, thinking about this warm feeling like a quirk, he had always expressed it through blind innocence and trust but thinking about it like a quirk made him feel warm as well, like it was a secrete only he knew. (Because it was).

“You, um, may want to close your eyes”

“Yessir!”

Izuku got to work, feeling the crevasses on the man’s cheeks, gently pressing over the eye area. Izuku then pulled the fabric away from skin and cut carefully, like he was taught in nursery.

The man’s eyes were blue, bright blue. Open slightly wider than would normally be considered normal but then again, nowadays to be normal is to be ostracised, it’s all about the extraordinary.

“Woah! Who beat you up kid? Did you at least win?! To die in a fight is the greatest honour a man could receive.”

Izuku hid his arms behind his back, almost instinctively. There was a reason he had kept the jumper on, the burns on his arms tended to be more sensitive to the sun’s rays, especially the newer ones. He also didn’t want questions, like those.

“Um, no i-I just, burnt myself, yeah, on accident”

“You helped me, why don’t I help you huh! Let’s go beat up some bad guys, oh wait I am a bad guy!”

“No no, it’s okay honestly, it’s just because I don’t h-have my quirk yet so, I’m just weaker than everyone else.”

“You got heart kid, don’t let anyone take that from you. Yeah heart! Hit them where it hurts next time!”

Warmth flushed itself up Izuku’s neck, he really wasn’t used to praise at all.

“Oh! Should we carry on finding your mask?” Izuku looked around once more, again, no sign.

Wait.

“Is that it? On that tree?”

Warmth flushed itself up Izuku’s neck for a different reason this time, mostly out of stupidity, how had he not thought to look up?

“Damn son! You found that quick! You’re like my mum!”

Izuku rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly as the man went and grabbed what he had lost. It was skin tight, probably latex, arranged in both grey and black shades split between the top and bottom half. The man untied the jumper from around his neck, passing it back to Izuku's open hands. Slipping the mask on the man breathed a sigh of contentment.'

“Thanks kid! You really did me a solid there, hope I see you around! Let’s hope our paths never cross, it is a dangerous world I choose to live in”

“It’s okay, I want to meet you again, you’re nice”

Izuku watched as the man drew up short, his creased eyebrow movement visible from behind the mask. Izuku smiled and turned to leave.

“Until next time!”

….

Jin didn’t meet interesting people in his life. His life was clean cut, isolated at best. Spending most days in his apartment, afraid of venturing outside in case he split. A life spent hiding away shouldn’t be a considered a life at all.

But there was something about that kid. Short yes, but full of something that seemed too big for such a small body to hold, he could see it leaking from the kids’ eyes. It was, scary.

To trust a stranger so blindly was a stupid move on the kids’ part, what if he was some creep? Maybe he should hang around for a while, teach the kid the meaning of stranger danger.

That’s something a creep would say

Yeah yeah, whatever.

It concerned him, not the kid, but why he was even concerned in the first place. It was unusual for him to give two shits about anyone, let alone a stranger. But yet, being near that kid made him want to pack up his belongings and start a new life, a better one.

He'll keep an eye out for that kid.