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In society being quirkless was unacceptable, weird, weak and disgusting. This was taught to the children as soon as they were expected to develope their quirks (4) and from that point on the whole world seemed to evolve around who had the strongest quirk. It was almost like predator and prey. The strong survived, while the weak got killed, whether it was the work of others or themselves was immaterial.
Midoriya Izuku was forced to understand that concept, was pushed into it, labelled as prey and learned to accept it at age four, as soon as his father left him and his mother turned abusive.
Izuku, quite unlike how the system had branded him, was strong and smart, he was ambitious and chased after his dreams, no matter how many times they tried to push him down. But because Midoriya was so clever, he let them get to him, let them beat him up and stood quiet, while insults were thrown his way.
He knew too well that he was in no position to defend himself, yet.
So he worked silently on his hero and eventually villain notebooks. He trained combat basics. He went through tons of books and websites about anything he deemed to be important. And he tried not to pay attention to the ordeal he went through day and night, tried not to get himself dragged down the dark path, that seemed to grow more and more appealing every day.
But there was only so much one could take.
Midoriya Izuku stood low. All his life he was seen as weaker than the others. Everyone around him, whether they intended to or not, stood higher than him. Society made them stand higher. As the only quirkless he knew was himself, he was the odd one out and surrounding people treated him accordingly.
Izuku was discouraged, a lot. He always pushed it away and tried not to pay attention to his tormentors, even when they belittled his dreams and insulted him to no end:
Stupid Deku, you would be crushed by even a small thug!
Quirkless people can’t be heroes!
A shitty Deku can’t become anything, above all a hero!
Maybe if you take a swan dive off the roof you’ll get a quirk in your next life!
But he couldn’t do just that, when it came from people he had thought would believe in him, such as his parents, teachers and most scathing, the person he had looked up to since the day he could think,
All Might.
He hadn’t insulted Izuku like all his bullies had but he certainly hadn’t thought or in Izuku’s mind hadn’t cared about the consequences his actions carried. Because that was the day Izuku had decided to take his mother’s, Kacchan’s, no Bakugou’s and some of his other bullie’s advice.
So there he stood, yellow All Might backpack laying beside him, at the edge of the same rooftop All Might had shattered all that had kept him alive. For once in his life Izuku stood higher than most, well at least physically. Mentally he was cowering on the floor, desperately trying to gather the broken pieces of all his dreams, all his ambition but only getting cut by the sharp edges the lifelong bullying and All Might’s last push had formed.
Here, on the roof of one of Musutafu’s rather tall buildings, he looked down at what he knew was concrete and would have been able to ‘look down’ on people, if it weren’t for the darkness of the night impairing his vision. The low lights of the sidewalk lanterns would have allowed him to make out some individuals walking or driving home, if he weren’t standing on the opposite side. He didn’t want to be seen now, not when his whole life he hasn’t been.
A cold, bitter wind rippled through his dark green, almost black hair, as words of misery shot through his mind. He felt the darkness claw at him from below, grasping him, trying to haul him down with it. He felt overwhelmed as he relived all of the agony, every torture he went through since that one faithful doctor’s visit. At the sole thought of it, pure terror flared up inside of him, burning him like a tiny leaf in a wildfire. His breath caught in his throat, as a sob was trying to escape. He clenched his chest trying to numb the pain, but not succeeding.
His sobs were no longer strangled, they were loud, only interrupted by the occasional gasp for air. The sounds were filled with pain, the only thing Izuku felt that moment was pain.
His whole frame shook violently and he shuffled, if possible, even closer to the edge.
He was desperately trying to remember anything that would stop him from going this far but only got punched hard in his gut by the anguish, accompanying the memory of the last few hours. The realization, that his purpose and with it his will to live had been brutally ripped away, weighed heavy on him and drew him low. It made the solution, placed right in front of him even more compelling, even harder to resist and-,
….and he gave in.
There was nothing holding him in this reality anymore, no one who cared, no one who would be affected badly by this, only people who had wished for this to happen sooner…
So he let himself go.
Ever so slowly, still trembling with sobs, he lifted and extended his arms and closed his eyes as he felt a cold breeze lift his clothes and parts of his curls. For several moments time didn’t seem to exist. It all went silent, the voices, the streets, his mind,…
it will be over
finally it will all end
just like everyone wanted to
Clinging onto these thoughts, Midoriya Izuku moved one leg to hover over nothing and, with a last sob, leaned forwards.
Just before his body was horizontal something wrapped tight around his waist and he was yanked back into his hell of a life. Every previous silenced sound came back rushing to his ears.
No.
No,
No…
It can’t be….
He had been so close to relief.
It had been a pretty boring patrol that night. Pro hero Eraserhead, civilian name Aizawa Shouta, had only had to prevent one mugging. He wasn’t complaining, it was nice to have at least one calm night. So now he was heading home and since it was only about 2 am he might even get a decent amount of sleep tonight.
As he leapt over one of the gaps between the rooftops, a fragile figure caught his eye and sent him stumbling ever so slightly in his landing. Maybe this night wouldn’t be over as fast… After a closer look he was sure there was someone standing on the edge of a building, a few buildings in front of him. Before he could think about it any more, his legs picked up their pace and he parcoured his way over to the person, as fast as his skills allowed him to. His gut turned as he saw the person’s arms extend to their sides.
Fuck, fuck, fuck he can’t be too late.
He can’t.
He won’t.
A small thud accompanied his landing on the opposite side on the roof. He rushed forward, grip tight in his capture weapon and with a practised hand flick, sent it out just in time for it to wrap around the person’s waist. He pulled them toward himself.
Relief rushing through him, he assessed the situation and person in front of him. The force of his pull had caused the person to stumble over their feet and trip, so they were now sitting with their back to Shouta. His capture weapon was still tight around their waist so there was no immediate danger. Allowing himself to relax further, Shouta took a closer look at the person in front of him. From the short fluffy hair and the school uniform they were wearing he assumed it was a boy and a relatively young one, if his small shaking frame was any indication.
It was only then, Shouta noticed that the boy was crying, no, sobbing. He had been so zeroed in, that he hadn’t noticed the heart wrenching sounds, slipping out of him. What was he supposed to do now? He was a hero and experienced with kids but never before was he confronted with a suicide attempt. Shouta wanted the boy to talk to him, so he focused on getting the kid to stop crying and did what he always did, when someone was crying.
He crouched in front of the kid and slowly, not to startle him, placed a hand on his shoulder and traced small circles on it. He wanted to hug and comfort him, the kid clearly needed it but he didn’t want to overstep any boundaries. He was a stranger after all.
Eventually the kid stopped sobbing but still trembled uncontrollably with hiccups. He looked up at Shouta with puffy, green eyes, they were reddened but the dark green overshadowed that fact. The boy wiped the remaining tears off with his sleeve and then some kind of realization seemed to hit him when he looked at Shouta in shock.
“I’m Aizawa Shouta, wanna tell me your name?”
The boy didn’t move and something similar to pain, no, more like a desperate longing filled his expression. A little confused Shota tilted his head and tried his best at a reassuring smile. It calmed him a bit at least and a hoarse voice whispered, ”sorry”.
“You don’t have to apologize for anything. But would you maybe tell me, what’s got you on a roof at 2am in the cold?”, his voice was softer than Shouta remembered it could be. The boy however remained silent and only lowered his gaze to his shaking hands. This was not going to be easy, was it?
Shouta ever so gently continued to talk, “Kid, I’m a pro hero, you can trust me. I won’t force you to talk to me but you look like you need it.”, the kid really did look like he needed it but still, only silence followed. Shouta sighed softly, “I think it would help you, don’t you?”
To his surprise he actually got a response to that only it was not what he expected.
“You-, t-there is no way to h-help me”, it was shakily whispered and Shouta almost didn’t catch it, almost. “Kid, I’m sure, whatever it is, even if I can’t solve the problem, telling someone will make you feel better.”
Shouta hoped he only imagined the under sniffles hidden ‘tried that already’ but at the kid’s hurt expression, his heart squeezed in empathy. “They didn’t help?” Surprised, that Shouta had heard that, the boy cautiously looked up and met his warming, but concerned gaze. Tears welled up in his eyes again as he shook his head, “They ignored it.” at that, Shouta took in a sharp breath. This kid, so crearly broken, had been denied comfort and help from someone he had probably trusted.
He kept his his voice light as he reassured the boy that he, in fact, would not ignore him and gladly would take some weight off the boy’s shoulders. The kid seemed torn at his statement and both of them kept quiet for a while. After a long suffering minute, the boy spoke up, “I’m.. I’m M-midoriya Izuku.”
“Hi, Midoriya,”, he smiled gratefully at the boy, “again, I’m Aizawa Shouta. I promise you can tell me what’s going on and I will make my best efforts to keep it from worrying you, okay?” And he meant it. Aizawa Shouta was determined to help Midoriya Izuku as best as he could, because there seemed to be no one else in his life who did.
Midoriya hesitated before muttering, “E-erasehead I really don’t want to waste your time, as you said earlier it’s already 2am and I- I really shouldn’t keep you from sleeping or whatever you were doing before uhm before t-this.” Shouta startled at the use of his hero name, he hadn’t told him, had he? But the rest of the spoken words, cracked his tiny heart. “Midoriya, kid, you wouldn’t waste my time. I decided to come here and stay. Also I was heading home but didn’t intend on sleeping anyway.” Okay, that may have been a lie, he did want to sleep, but reassuring the kid was way more important right now.
Midoriya fidgeted with his hands and shook his head, to show he wasn’t planning on telling Shouta anything.
A little frustrated, he figured he should earn Midoriya’s trust before pushing him any further. So after a few quiet moments, he let his curiosity take over and changed the subject. “How did you know my hero name? I’m an underground hero and my name isn’t really popular, so most people wouldn’t know, above all recognise me.”
“Oh, I- uhm… well, I guess I- I know a thing or two about heroes...”
Shouta furrowed his eyebrows, recognising him wasn’t ‘knowing a thing or two’. Midoriya picked up on Shouta’s confusion and was quick to elaborate,”Well, I have this uhm this, like, h-hobby?”, it was phrased like a question and only confused Shouta all the more. “What kind of hobby?”
Shouta didn’t know if he regretted asking, because on the one hand it seemed to make the kid uncomfortable but on the other he really would like to know what the boy meant by hobby. Up until now he’d assumed that maybe Shouta had saved one of the boy’s friends or even him but now…Before he could make any assumptions Midoriya answered in a very thin, shaky voice, “Uhm usually people think it’s c-creepy and weird so uhm I don’t know if you want to s-see and uhm-”, at Shouta’s warm smile he cut himself off, took a deep breath and went on, “I uhm, I have a-analysed quite a few heroes and their quirks and well, y-you are one of them.”
Mioriya watched him warily as his eyes widened.
“You- How? Wait didn’t you say something about seeing it?”
“I uhm yeah, d-do you really want to?” The kid earned an enthusiastic nod and encouraging smile as response, Shouta loosened his capture weapon so Midoriya could move but still eyed him warily.
To his relief the boy walked just a few steps, picked up a backpack and then returned to sit in front of Shouta. It was an All Might backpack. Midoriya seemed pretty tense and unsure while he roamed through the backpack so Shouta decided on small talk and asked, “Are you an All Might fan? Have you analysed him too?”
Even though he didn’t think too highly of him, he had thought the number one hero to be a safe topic, given the boy’s merch and the overall admiration All Might got from the public. But seemed he had been very wrong. Midoriya froze and his hands started shaking again but before Shouta could apologize or say anything really, the boy had taken a few deep breaths and handed him a Notebook with a simple 10 written on it’s cover.
“The entry on you should be somewhere in the middle but you can look through the other ones too. And yes, I do have analysed All Might but I don’t have it with me right now.” Shouta pushed the worry, of the kid completely disregarding his first question away and gave him a quick nod, before brushing briefly through entries on minor or underground heroes, searching for his hero name.
And there it was, written in rather messy letters, stood ‘Eraserhead’ over a sketch of himself. He read the pages thoroughly, taking in every single word about his quirk, strengths, weaknesses, improvement suggestions for fighting style and hero costume.He was most intrigued by the paragraphs theorizing how one could benefit him best, when fighting side to side and how one could use his weaknesses against him and block his strengths, when facing him in battle.
He was taken aback, by how detailed and how scarily accurate all of this was.
How in hell had this kid so much information about him, he couldn’t have figured all this out by just the two public fights that had been broadcasted live against his will. These had been years ago and his fighting style had changed a fair bit since then.
He didn’t want to make the same mistake again and ask or say something that unsettled Midoriya, so he just skimmed over his weaknesses and their improvement suggestions again, seeing as he might as well benefit from this situation. There was an interesting thought about trying out various braiding techniques for sensitive hair. Midoriya had somehow figured out that his hair, while it being a natural weak point in the human species, was even more of a harmful spot to Shouta, based off the fact that Shouta would already have tied it up in a bun if it weren’t extremely sensitive and, to Midoriya’s true assumption, would give him a headache. Also taking into consideration that Shouta used goggles but wore his hair open.
For a second he thought Midoriya had made a tiny mistake there because Shouta wasn’t too focused on his hair, since it didn’t indicate which opponent’s quirk was erased but instead only if his was active. But reading the next sentence proved Shouta wrong and the kid had, in fact, pointed that out.
This was, to put it light, incredible. Shouta said as much.
“Midoriya this is, and I mean it, amazing. I don’t even want to know how you got so much information about me, an underground hero. And you’re analysis is on a really, really high level. I would even go as far as saying that this is better than professional analysis that I’ve read. You’re assumptions about my quirk, strengths and weaknesses are correct. And your insights of improvement are interesting and I’d be lying if I said I wouldn’t put them to the test at the next given opportunity.”
Midoriya stared up at Shouta in awe and disbelief which confused him because that were the emotions Shouta felt. But he dismissed it, given that the kid was probably never told such things before, if his… attempt was anything to go by.
“Do you have an analysis quirk by chance, because I honestly can’t think of how else you’d have gotten all this information.”
Midoriya lowered his gaze again and muttered something. Once again Shouta just almost hadn’t heard it. But he had and his heart, if possible, cracked even more because this precious, intelligent kid was quirkless. Now, don’t get him wrong he didn’t have a single problem with it but he knew that way too many people did. And, oh how that thought had his blood boiling. He would like to know who had hurt Midoriya and discriminated against him. He just wanted to talk.
While planning this murder, something occurred to Shouta.
“Kid?” The boy perked up at being addressed and it gave Shouta enough reassurance to ask “Are you safe at home?”
Midoriya, no Izuku was probably better, staying silent and avoiding eye contact was answer enough and what little was left of Shouta’s heart was now ground to dust and blown away.
There was now no doubt about it, Shouta would take the kid in. He would at least take custody of him until they found a home that Izuku felt comfortable with and Shouta deemed safe -although he would rather have the kid stay-. He knew how cruel the orphanage with a whole bunch of younger and older kids was and even if it hurt him to even just think it, he knew that probably no one would foster, even less adopt a quirkless child, no matter how intelligent or sweet or polite.
Shouta of course would ask the kid first but was pretty sure that there was nothing holding him in his old ‘home’.
So Midoriya Izuku turned Aizawa Izuku and gained a dad in the same night as he thought he would leave his life behind.
Well, in a sense he did.