Chapter Text
Izuku’s favorite time of day used to be the very end of it.
Long after school had let out, when night would sweep over the sky and his homework was complete. Then, he’d be left alone with the last hours of twilight to curl up on his bed with his notebooks and work on revising his notes.
The routine was comforting, and almost meditative. A way to wind down and lose himself in his thoughts for a while after long, tiring days surrounded by jeering classmates. The powerful combination of the darkness outside his window and the rhythmic sound of his pen scratching over paper had lulled Izuku into a doze more than once.
But now, as Izuku watches the fiery sunrise break over the distant edge of the horizon, completely mesmerized, he thinks he has a new favorite time of day.
The sight is slightly ruined by the inescapable silhouettes of the towering junk piles around him, always present as dark spots on the edges of Izuku’s vision. So when he sees the first few rays of light, Izuku quickly clambers to the top of a pile closer to the ocean than the others, and his view of the sunrise becomes as clean and clear as it can be.
Sweaty and aching, he braces himself against a rusty, dilapidated oven, and tilts his face towards the sun. All Might is waiting for him back through the maze of trash, with his truck at the ready to haul whatever else Izuku manages to carry back off to the local dump, and Izuku faintly hopes that the man doesn’t notice the few minutes of morning Izuku is stealing for himself.
It isn’t long until he hears a distant voice shouting for him, the familiar deep tone rising confidently over the crashing of waves and cawing of gulls, “Young Midoriya! Are you alright over there?”
Izuku takes a deep breath, and pushes through the initial thrill of happiness that runs through him at hearing All Might call his name. They’ve been training together for four months already, and yet Izuku’s heart still swells with excitement whenever they interact. “Yes! I’m fine! Just catching my breath!” He calls back.
“Don’t take too long, my boy!” Izuku cranes his neck in the direction of All Might’s voice, he can almost see two distinct points of blond hair poking out from behind some of the mess. “You’re on a schedule, afterall.”
After throwing one final wondering glance at the sunrise, Izuku carefully descends his tower, watching out for sharp glass and metal on his way down. The bag he’d been gathering trash in is still waiting for him at the bottom, with a truly pitiful amount of trash actually inside it, so Izuku hurriedly shoves a microwave with a shattered door in before hefting the entire thing over his shoulder.
All Might smiles at him proudly when he drops the trash bag down on the back of the truck, and Izuku can’t help but smile back, even as he pants from over-exertion. The microwave had put the weight of the bag just slightly over Izuku’s current threshold, and carrying it across the beach with the sand sucking at his heels had been tougher than expected.
“Good job today.” All Might praises, giving Izuku a strong pat on the back that nearly sends him into the dirt. “I can almost see some muscle growing on those skinny arms!”
“T-thank you All Might!” Izuku replies, and his voice definitely does not crack.
A short burst of laughter escapes All Might, but then it turns into a rough, ragged cough, and abruptly his muscled form pops like a balloon. The steam from the released energy blinds Izuku for a moment, but he can still hear All Might’s alternating coughs and chuckles.
"You better get going, kid." All Might says when the smoke has cleared, “You still gotta shower before school starts, right?”
Izuku jumps, "Oh- right!" He quickly begins glancing around for his backpack - usually he brings it along in case training runs too close to the start of the school day, but today it seems he has a little extra time to run home and get himself ready first.
All Might reaches out to spin him around by his shoulders, and Izuku stiffens for a moment, before brightening when he sees his backpack resting against the front wheel of the truck.
He snatches it up gratefully, as All Might says, “Remember, you have the afternoon off, but we start at the same time tomorrow morning, so make sure to get some sleep.”
“I will.” Izuku answers readily. He swings his backpack over his shoulder, shuddering only a little at the sensation of its weight pressing down on the back of his sweaty shirt.
All Might, back-lit by the warm sun, waves him off as Izuku begins down the path back to his neighborhood. It’s a sight Izuku isn’t sure he’ll ever get used to. Like something from his dreams, back when he’d been young and still had that childish hope that maybe, one day, he would actually get to meet All Might.
It doesn’t feel so childish now, as Izuku grins widely and waves back. Who would have ever thought his dreams would become real?
The buoyant feeling in his chest carries him all the way home, all the way through his morning routine, and all the way to the front gates of Aldera. Out of habit - one born from years of walking into the school courtyard only to immediately find himself knocked flat on his back - Izuku stops just before the threshold.
Aldera is where it all goes away; Izuku’s training with All Might, the strength he’s been amassing, the work he’s been putting towards his dream. He goes from All Might’s soon-to-be successor back to creepy quirkless Deku, and no matter how hard he pushes himself, he’ll never be anything more than that to his classmates and teachers here.
The only good thing is that Bakugou hasn’t bothered him since the Sludge Villain incident. Izuku isn’t really a fan of the new, oddly intense looks Bakugou has been giving him, but he prefers them to having his notebooks blown to pieces. Without Bakugou to harass him, that’s one less thing for Izuku to have to fear when he walks the school’s halls.
Soon he’ll be graduating from Aldera. Soon he’ll be leaving all of this behind him.
Soon he’ll be getting a quirk.
Izuku stares up at the school, hears the first warning bell ring from inside.
He takes a deep breath, gathers all his courage as he does every day, and he steps through the gate.
Inko is quiet for most of dinner. That's how Izuku knows something is wrong. He tries multiple times to get her engaged in a topic, whether it be through talking about his day or rambling about any hero fights he saw, doing his best to kindle them into conversations. Inko’s interest flickers and fades every time.
Like him, she's almost never quiet. Rambling is in their blood, but right now, Inko is pensively still. Deep in thought, she moves her chopsticks to her mouth almost mechanically, while her eyes are focused somewhere far away.
It makes Izuku nervous. "Mom?" He says gently, hoping to get her attention without having to raise his voice.
Inko blinks, like she’s coming awake, and turns to look at Izuku. Her gaze is still distant when she stares at him, like he’s a puzzle she’s trying to figure out in her mind, and she’s weighing the pros and cons of trying to fit a particular piece into place.
Izuku fidgets in his seat, “Mom?” He repeats. “What’s wrong?”
With a faint click against her bowl, Inko sets her chopsticks down. “Izuku,” She says, softly and carefully, “There’s something I’d like to talk to you about.”
“Uhm, okay?” Izuku replies, and sets his own chopsticks down to give his mother his full attention. His chopsticks roll to the side and fall from his bowl with a quiet clatter, and he quickly scrambles to pick them back up and lay them down correctly.
Inko watches with an amused little smile, though it’s offset by the tightness around her lips and eyes.
“Let me go get something,” She says unexpectedly, and stands from the table.
She’s out of the kitchen for all of half a minute, but it’s just long enough for Izuku’s anxiety to ratchet up to eleven. He tries to keep himself calm, clenching and unclenching his fists, taking deep breaths, but he’s never seen his mom so serious...
When Inko returns, she has a folded piece of paper tucked close to her.
“Now I know you haven’t liked the idea of this kind of thing in the past,” Inko starts, tense as she sits back down, “But I really would like you to try it this time. Just once at least.”
Izuku stares at the brightly colored pamphlet that Inko presses into his hands.
Two random people who he doesn’t know smile plastically up at him, the words Quirkless Doesn’t Mean Worth Less! stamped above their heads in a rounded, bubbly font. Something about it turns his stomach and makes acid burn at the back of his throat.
He cringes and looks up at his mom, but Inko only nods. With a wobbly smile, she gestures encouragingly for him to open the pamphlet. Izuku’s thumbs lightly crease the cheap, glossy paper as he does.
Inside, there are more pictures of smiling strangers. Every single person looks as if they could be in the dictionary beside the definition of the word “normal.” They’re plain, with simple humanoid bodies, and barely any secondary quirk characteristics like Izuku’s own dark green hair. It’s just a sea of brown and black and too-wide laughing mouths.
Izuku’s vision starts to swim, blurring the faces and colors together, until his eyes catch on a bolded phrase; “Quirked individuals are not allowed to attend. All our meetings are safe spaces for Quirkless individuals to find solidarity and companionship!”
He swallows, and shuts the pamphlet. Every piece of it is crafted and curated to appear as welcoming as possible, but its artificial enthusiasm almost has him gagging.
“Well?” Inko asks, voice heavy with anticipation, “What do you think?”
Izuku tries to find the words, but every thought he digs up comes up bitter and withered.
I think this is ridiculous.
I don’t want to go.
Everything is fine, what would I even have to talk about?
“I think it looks nice.” Inko offers when Izuku doesn’t respond. “You could make some friends.”
“I have friends.” Izuku says, quietly.
He doesn’t.
“More friends, then. Nothing wrong with more friends, especially ones who you have…” Inko falters, “... something in common with.”
Izuku can feel his lips trying to fall into a frown, but he pulls them into a strained smile instead. Under the guise of reading the back, he turns the pamphlet around so he won’t have to see the tag-line on the cover. “Thanks mom, but I don’t think this kind of thing is for me.”
Acting like he’s done reading, Izuku tries to push the pamphlet back at Inko, but is met with a stone wall of resistance when she hides her hands behind her back. “Please, Izuku. Just give it a try.”
The pamphlet burns in his hand, the words Worth Less pressing against his skin like an inky brand, and a familiar powerless feeling wells up in the base of his throat, “It’s fine, mom, really. I don’t need to go to- this.”
He refuses to say support group out loud. This isn’t the kind of support that he’s starving for. This is the cold, impersonal kind, given out by strangers who pretend to be sympathetic to your struggles just as long as they can talk about theirs . They hand it out like candy on Halloween, to anyone who will sit there and be a warm body for them to say words at.
What would they even do at meetings? Sit in a circle and try to make small talk, uncomfortably avoiding the fact that they all have the same exact tired eyes?
It doesn’t even matter, anyways, because he’s not the kind of Quirkless person who needs this.
Izuku again tries to give the pamphlet back. If he holds onto it any longer, the crinkles his grip is leaving in the paper will make it unreadable. “I don’t want to meet other Quirkless people.”
Inko frowns at him, disappointed. Her disappointment would hurt more if Izuku wasn’t overwhelmed by feeling cornered and frustrated. “You haven’t even thought about it for very long.” She says.
“I don’t need to.” He answers immediately.
“Izuku,” Inko says, more firmly now. Izuku stiffens, and she sighs, “I don’t want to fight. Just… think about it a little more. For me?”
Why wasn’t my first answer good enough?
That powerless feeling in his throat chokes him. He doesn’t want to fight either.
“Why do you even want me to go now?” He says, and he hates how it comes out in almost a whine.
Inko’s expression twists - something like regret and bitterness and concern all mixing together in a confusing way that Izuku can’t interpret. “I’m just worried about you, Izuku.”
It’s not an answer, it’s just something Izuku’s been hearing his whole life.
He pushes away from the table and stands, expression closing off, “Okay.” Is all he can get himself to say.
Inko relaxes immediately, sighing in relief, not picking up on Izuku’s dead tone, “Thank you, honey.” She says. She stands as well, moving around the table so she can lean upwards and give Izuku’s forehead a kiss when she finally, finally, takes the now-ruined pamphlet from his hands. His fingers curl and clench into loose fists around open air. “I just want what’s best for you, and I really think this would be good. You’ll see, it’ll be nice having other people to talk to, especially with entrance exams coming up.”
Oh. Entrance exams.
Understanding hits Izuku like a punch to the gut, and leaves him just as winded.
Mom thinks I won’t get into UA.
Inko gives him a weak smile, and Izuku does his best to match it, he does, but the energy needed to fake it is more than he has right now.
“I think… I’m done eating. Can I go to my room?” He asks.
A nod from Inko that he’s excused is all the cue Izuku needs to turn and leave - it might be rude, and he thinks his mom says something to his back that he doesn’t hear, but suddenly Izuku is tired. Too tired to try and listen anymore. His heart aches the way his shoulders do after he’s been training with All Might all day, like he’s been holding something broken and heavy, and it’s only gotten heavier.
He knows he’ll give in. Inko will ask him about the support group again in the morning, and Izuku knows he’ll agree to go.
All Izuku wants now is to go lay down in bed, and forget, if only for a moment, about the line of Quirkless people from the pamphlet and their too perfect smiles.
It’s only after Izuku has aggressively thrown more than one piece of junk down into the sand that All Might taps his shoulder.
He spins, already on edge and defensive, shoulders hitched high and hands curled in tight fists. All Might even takes a step back at the intense expression on Izuku’s face, and that’s what snaps Izuku back to reality.
“Oh-!” He gasps, “I’m sorry All Might, I didn’t mean to-”
“Calm down, kid, gosh you’re skittish,” All Might says, putting his hands down on Izuku’s shoulders before Izuku’s nervous hand gestures can get any faster. He chuckles as Izuku sags in his hold, like a wilting flower, “You’ve been very determined to teach this trash a lesson today, anything going on?”
Izuku glances down and away, “...Not really.”
“You know you can confide in me. It’s important for us to have trust between us.” All Might says.
Izuku looks up into his mentor’s face. All Might’s dark, sunken eyes stare back with nothing but sincerity.
He can imagine how the conversation would go.
My mom wants me to go to a Quirkless Support Group. She doesn’t think I’ll get into UA. After all this time, she still doesn’t believe I can become a hero, because I’m quirkless.
Well, she’s right. Without a quirk you’d have no chance. What did I tell you on the rooftop, did you forget so soon?
All Might wouldn’t actually say that. The words are all wrong, too cruel and apathetic, too dissimilar to everything All Might is.
Logically, Izuku knows that, but emotionally, he can’t seem to convince himself.
He can’t confide in All Might this time. Not about this. This shame can stay locked up inside him.
Izuku shrugs his way out of All Might’s hands and shuffles backwards, kicking up sand with his heels, “It’s nothing, really not a big deal,” He says, stumbling on his words, “I’m sorry I’ve been in a bad mood this morning- and interrupted our training with it.”
“Training is useless if you aren’t in the right mindset,” All Might says. His brows are furrowed, but he doesn’t try to reach for Izuku again.
Izuku shakes his head, denies All Might’s comfort one final time, and pushes some enthusiasm into his voice that even he can tell is fake, “Well then I’ll get into the right mindset! I have to keep working my hardest afterall.”
His chest feels tight, his ribs like a vice around his lungs.
All Might sighs, “Alright Young Midoriya, if that’s what you want to do.”
It is. It is what he wants to do, Izuku tells himself, as he turns and returns to his exercises. But there’s a sick, sour feeling occupying the space around his heart.
Tomorrow, he’ll go to the Quirkless Support Group meeting, get it all over with, and never go again. All Might doesn’t have to know. Everything can continue on as normal, everything will be fine.
The community center at the address on the pamphlet is an old, old thing. Maybe more than a hundred years old, Izuku would guess, as he looks the building over. Maybe even older than quirks.
It’s nestled between other buildings that also seem to be caught halfway between the past and the present, all of them out of place against the backdrop of a modern city. Most of the architecture is made of soft, creaking wood and sloped ceramic roof, with patchwork spots of newer construction and fresh paint along the sides. A bronzing plaque beside the door marks it as Protected by the Historical Society of Musutafu.
Izuku feels unsteady just looking at it. He can respect the history behind it, but it’s really not the type of building that inspires confidence, and he’d like nothing more than to walk away and never see it again.
With a sigh, Izuku climbs the stairs anyways.
The door announces him with a loud shriek of old hinges when he opens it, and Izuku winces. Shoulders hunched up high by his ears, he turns to see who he might’ve disturbed with the sound, hoping he’ll be able to salvage their first impression of him, but the entrance room in front of him is... empty.
Weird. Shouldn’t a group like this have people managing it and welcoming in new members? Izuku thinks, as he straightens his back and carefully shuts the door behind him, all while surveying the room with a frown. It’s sparsely lit, with old electrical lines running along the top of the wall into muted yellow overhead lights, but in the shadows at the back, Izuku spots a pair of sliding doors.
Maybe they lead to where the meeting is actually being held. Or at least to a hallway he can walk down until he hears voices. Right now, aside from the buzz of the straining lights, everything is disturbingly silent.
When Izuku slides them open, the doors do in fact reveal a hallway. A long, dark hallway.
Nervously, Izuku reaches into his jacket pocket and curls his fingers around his phone. Having its weight in his hand and rubbing his thumb against the familiar ridges in its All Might style case soothes him, but only a little. Just enough that he feels brave enough to keep going.
“Hello…?” Izuku calls out hesitantly, as he ventures further into the building. “Uhm, I’m here for the, uh, the Quirkless Group meeting?”
The silence stretches on.
“This was the time on the pamphlet, right?” Izuku mutters, half to himself, and half to whoever may be able to hear him. He knew he was a few minutes late, but he didn’t think the meeting would be over.
Most of the rooms he passes seem silent and empty - not that Izuku is checking. His anxiety is already through the roof without him going around opening random doors.
He’s sure that when larger groups use this community center for events, the numerous rooms are all full of lively people, mingling together and using the rooms to their maximum social potential. But right now, as he walks through on his own, Izuku feels more and more like he’s creeping through an abandoned, haunted house.
The end of the hallway is growing nearer with every step, and Izuku still hasn’t encountered another person.
He pulls out his phone, to text his mom to tell her that the meeting was a bust and he’s coming home, when he finally hears a low murmur of distant voices. Phone still in hand, Izuku follows the sound to the second-to-last room on the right, then stops just outside of it, the toes of his shoes against the line of light that leaks out from under the door.
Without any real reason why, Izuku finds himself hesitating. He stands there awkwardly, wavering back and forth between whether to go in or not, and just listens for a while.
There is definitely more than one person inside, but the conversation... doesn’t sound happy. They’re all speaking slowly and seriously, not at all in the way Izuku would expect strangers to be talking when introducing themselves.
Whatever they’re saying is too garbled through the wood for Izuku to really eavesdrop successfully, but he’d know the word “quirkless” no matter how muffled and distorted.
So, because he promised his mom he would try, Izuku gathers his courage, and knocks on the door.
All conversation from inside cuts off immediately, but Izuku doesn’t get any time to process before the door is being swung open by a tall, broad-shouldered man. He really is incredibly tall, especially compared to Izuku who has always been on the short side of his age group. Izuku actually has to crane his head a bit in order to see the man’s face.
Except he can’t see the man’s face, because the man is wearing a mask. A dark, full-face mask, obscuring any identifiable features.
Izuku freezes. His legs lock up and refuse to move, even though his brain immediately screams RUN.
A moment too late, he turns and tries to get away.
He’s not fast enough. He’s never fast enough.
A large hand comes down on Izuku’s shoulder first, like heavy sludge that drags him back to put another hand over his mouth. He’s pulled into the room, kicking wildly, screaming as loud as he can behind the barrier of rough skin.
At some point he drops his phone, and another person, also in a mask, picks it up. They look down at the screen, still open to Izuku’s text conversation with his mom.
‘I’m coming home’ Had accidentally been sent.
The person tilts their face in Izuku's direction, then pockets Izuku’s phone.
Izuku’s screams raise in pitch, and he struggles harder, even tries to bite the hand over his mouth. He feels like a fish on a hook, putting all his energy into thrashing and squirming, but unable to get free.
All Might hadn’t taught him any actual fighting techniques yet.
“Shut him up!” Someone hisses harshly.
A fist comes down on the side of Izuku’s head with all the force of a hammer, stunning him. His body goes limp just long enough for the hand over his mouth to be swapped with a damp, sweet-smelling cloth. Too panicked, Izuku takes a few rapid breaths before he realizes what’s happening.
By then, the room is already spinning, his vision going dark.
The door shuts.