Chapter Text
When Midoriya Izuku was ten years old, his mother was killed in the street, right in front of him.
Anyone who has experienced loss can say that they understand exactly what’s going on, but it always seems that they forget how alone grief makes you feel. How isolated, how stupid, how lost it makes you feel. People also seem to forget that grief is different for everyone and they handle it in different ways. Midoriya handled it by taking all that pent up emotion out on the cause of his mother’s death: All Might himself; the shrapnel that had torn Inko into pieces had shot off a building that All Might had mis-hit.
Midoriya had lost more than just his mother that day, but his hopes, dreams, and faith in heroes dropped off the edge as well.
For the first several weeks, Midoriya tried to forgive All Might. The hero had done his best. He had saved other people. But he should have been able to save everyone. He should have been a better hero. When Midoriya looked into the incident, he came across information saying that if All Might had waited for backup, the villain could have been cornered in the same street they’d appeared. But All Might had to prove he was the best, and Midoriya’s mom lost her life because of it.
Midoriya settled on rage. He was angry at the heroes, he was angry at the people who made heroes feel like they had to prove themselves, and he was angry that people couldn’t find ways to use their quirks in good ways, instead settling on violence.
Over the next few years, the anger morphed into a dangerous hatred of the society and himself. He started to hate heroes for thinking they could save the world without changing it. He hated his classmates who were so obsessed with becoming a hero. How could people just walk around and praise villains parading as saviors? He hated himself for pulling Inko into the situation. He hated himself for not working harder. He hated himself for being quirkless.
--
Midoriya’s life, even before his mothers death, could have been better. Maybe if it had been better, he would have ended up in a different place.
When Midoriya was the only kid left in his class without a quirk, his mother and father finally agreed on something: taking him to a quirk specialist. The specialist, Dr. Tsubasa, told Midoriya that he was never going to develop a quirk. He even had the extra pinky joint to prove it. It crushed Midoriya. He had always planned to be the greatest hero in the country, in the world, but now he was told by everyone around him that he wouldn’t amount to anything.
Midoriya’s experience with bullying began here. The other second graders had decided that because Midoriya was quirkless, he could never fight back and would be a great victim for them to choose from. Or at least, a good punching bag to figure out their quirks on.
Inko was always on his side, though. She stood next to him at parent teacher conferences and called for better watch over Midoriya. She took him to ice cream after he came home with bruises or scratches or any kind of remnant of a quirk. She told him every night that he was so strong, so bright, so amazing. She told him that he could be powerful, famous, and the greatest hero in the world.
The bullying from other kids stopped in fifth grade, when his mother was killed. But it was only the beginning for his internal discourse of guilt and self hatred. It was his fault that his mother died. He could never be a hero. Not anymore.
Once Middle School started, the bullying started up again. The other children seemed to forget that Midoriya lived a life outside of being their punching bag.
Aldera Middle School wasn’t the only place that Midoriya faced anger, rage, and physical abuse. Once he reached home at night, his father would scream and yell and tell Midoriya that it was his fault that Inko had died. Of course, Midoriya knew that. He knew that was true. If he hadn’t begged her to go to the All Might shop, if he had decided to leave when they heard the crash, if he hadn’t smiled at his mom and told her that “All Might would stop the villain!”, if he had scurried away with his mother when they saw debris falling, if he had gone to her when she screamed.
If, if, if...
Midoriya learned to accept the abuse from his father. If he didn’t speak up or talk back, he usually wouldn’t go to school the next day with more bruises under his shirt. He learned to accept it from his classmates because they were strong. The teachers who bothered to pick him up after getting shoved, hit, kicked, and insulted usually told him that the kids with powerful quirks had to be praised, or they might not become heroes, and that was why they couldn’t help Midoriya. He preferred it when the teachers just walked by.
Over the next three years, his peers only got crueler. And they got smarter, too. They started to go at him with more than just punches and kicks. They started to whisper about his mom, and how if he had a quirk, he might not have killed her. Still, Kacchan, his best friend before his mother’s death, stayed back. He picked on other kids, but never Midoriya. That comfort started to lose its grandiosity when Kacchan started to lead the crowd that jeered at him. He still hadn’t hit him, or even tried to kick him back towards the bullies when he got too close to the edge of the crowd, but his eyes were getting meaner, his comments hit harder.
It shouldn’t have come as a surprise when on the last day of Middle School, Kacchan was the one to pick the fight. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise that Midoriya limped back home with burns all across his body, his T-shirt in smoldering tatters. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise that when his dad saw the state he was in, he just added to the bruises (You can’t even fight back because you're useless and quirkless. If it wasn’t for you, my wife wouldn’t be dead and you wouldn’t be putting yourself in these situations). Midoriya shouldn’t have been surprised when that night, the guilt hit him like a semi-truck. Because it shouldn’t have come as a surprise that the quirkless kid had killed his mother.
And yet, Midoriya was surprised. This was not the life he had imagined having, way back when his mother’s kind eyes looked at him with only support when he told her he wanted to be a hero. When her loving hugs were something he could count on every day. When he had real food every night because his mother would cook for them even when she was tired. When he had still dreamed of being the best hero, even better than All Might. When he had thought that the only thing to do with his life was be a Hero. When it didn’t matter to himself or his peers that he didn’t have a quirk. When he and Kacchan went to the park and played on the playground, pretending to be the best heroes in the world while they attacked the worst villains.
He should have known that he really was just a useless deku. Just a piece of trash that was only going to poison the people around him. But he’d held out hope that something good would happen to him. Anything. Midoriya realized that evening, while the microwave hummed next to him, that he was nothing. He was just a nuisance to the people around him. He’d killed his mother. There was nothing worse than someone who got in the way, and that was all Midoriya was.
So, later that night, Midoriya had made up his mind. Throwing a plain black sweatshirt on over his pajamas, he walked out the front door. His dad didn’t even look up from the TV.
The only surprise that faced Midoriya Hisashi the next morning was that Izuku hadn’t left a suicide note.
--
Midoriya had fully intended to walk to Aldera and jump off the roof, but something stopped him. Maybe it was that pesky hope he’d thought had finally shattered, or maybe it was that eerie feeling that there were eyes watching him, but he decided to wait. He walked into the city instead, glad he’d worn plain sweatpants that weren’t going to make him look like a child looking for trouble. He was also glad that he’d decided to bring his wallet, he hadn’t wanted any problems with identifying the kid on the ground. He went to a well hidden ramen place he knew about and got some food. They were open 24/7 so Midoriya wasn’t concerned with rushing. He might as well enjoy his final meal.
He sat in the ramen shop for about thirty minutes, slowly slurping down the noodles. When he walked out the doors, the chill he felt wasn’t only from exiting the warm building. Whoever was watching him was closer. “It doesn’t matter”, was what Midoriya kept trying to tell himself. He had a plan and nothing was going to get in his way. So he started down the street towards Aldera.
Midoriya’s only warning that he was about to get grabbed was the telltale rush of air that always came when someone ran up behind you too fast. So Midoriya let his instincts take over. He buckled his knees and slid to the side (right into an alley, good one), immediately jumping to his feet and dropping to a crouch. He stared at the person who was trying to attack him. The man had garish purple scars on his face and neck. His blue eyes were bright with interest, but Midoriya didn’t feel like the guy was putting in his all. That was weird. The man mirrored Midoriya’s position and just stared at him for a few seconds before he leapt with surprising agility and speed right for Midoriya.
He’ll have to do better than that. Midoriya thought. Just because Midoriya had learned how to take beating from his classmates didn’t mean he wanted to. He fought back against the ones who were less sure, and he usually got away from them. So instead of feinting to the side like he had done the first time, he also moved sharply forward. Surprise was evident on the man's face when Midoriya used his shoulders like a jump board and then started running out of the alley and into the street, still intent on finishing his plan for the evening. When he could feel himself being watched, but saw no sign of the man, he resigned himself to letting the man watch him fall from a building.
--
“Shigaraki, the kid is good. No obvious quirk use, and good combat skills for someone his age and size. I don’t know why you care so much, but I can’t see why we wouldn’t pick him up.”
“Excellent. Is he still heading to this school?” came the scratchy response through his phone.
“Looks like it. He’s tense, I think he knows I’m still here.” Dabi could hear the strange smile on the man’s face. He really couldn’t tell why Shigaraki was going after such a small target when he could be going after much bigger villains. As far as Dabi knew, the kid wasn’t even a villain, he was just… well, a kid. Villains didn’t usually run away.
“Perfect, let me know when he’s close, then I’ll take over.”
“Sure.”
--
When Midoriya reached the gates to Aldera, he felt the eyes leave. Yeah, he wouldn’t want to stick around while a tiny kid went to school in the middle of the night either. He climbed the fence easily and walked to the back of the building where there was a fire escape that led to the top of the building. He started climbing, not caring that it pulled at the tight burns just on the side of too much, blinding him a little each time he reached up. It wouldn’t be long until that pain went away anyways. The roof of the building wasn’t that interesting, just some vents and a couple old sports balls that hadn’t ever been retrieved. He walked over to the edge and stood on the lip of the roof. He looked at the sky one last time, appreciating the full moon, and took a step off the building.
For all the times that Midoriya had been surprised, this had to have been the biggest in his life. Someone had grabbed the hood of his sweatshirt and was preventing him from falling to the earth.
“Hello, there, Midoriya Izuku.”
The voice was strange, grating on Midoriya’s ear drums. Belatedly, he realized that the dude holding him back knew his full name. “Can’t a guy kill himself in peace?”
“If you really want to, sure.” Yet, the mysterious man didn’t loosen his grip. “But first, let’s talk.” And he yanked Midoriya back onto the roof.
“You’re wasting your time. I can’t help you do anything, I’m useless.”
“Oh, don’t say that. I can think of plenty of uses for you. Being a broken corpse isn’t that high on the list.”
Midoriya seemed a little confused at that. What did this stranger (who was wearing hands? When did that come into fashion?) mean, uses? He was never useful before, why would he be now. Actually, that wasn’t true, he was a great punching bag. “What do you mean?”
“Oh dear, they got to you worse than they got to me, didn’t they.” The stranger said, not pity in his voice, but understanding.
“That didn’t answer my question. What do you mean I could be useful? I don’t even have a quirk.” His cheeks burned at the confession, but he was going to die anyways, what did it matter if a stranger knew about it.
“Color me shocked. I figured you had some sort of healing or absorbtion quirk, with the amount of injuries you’ve been racking up.” Shigaraki itched his neck as his mind went into a spiral. The kid’s injuries were on par with the injuries he’d received when training under All for One. And those had been treated almost immediately by one of the several healing quirks All for One had hidden away.
“As if those were bad.” Midoriya rolled his eyes. The injuries hadn’t been that bad, the only long term one was what he deduced was a fractured rib, and it didn’t hinder him from doing anything. Also, the burns, but those weren’t going to be very long term if all went according to plan.
“Midoriya Izuku, you do realize that the injuries you’ve been receiving are worse than a lot of villains get in a take down, right? Even if they were over a much longer period of time.”
This time it was Midoriya’s turn to be colored shocked. They weren’t that bad, really. “No… they were just from some almighty assholes with quirks. They aren’t like what villains get… right?” But as Midoriya thought about it, most villains just ended up knocked out if their quirk got out of hand. They usually just got some quirk cancelling handcuffs, even the really terrible ones.
Shigaraki watched the little one’s brain twist and turn, trying to put together all the facts. This child really had been through the same things that he had. The bullying, the fighting, the cruelty. But this timid, slim boy didn’t even have a quirk. How had he even survived this long?
“It doesn’t matter now, anyways. Why do you care? I’m just some quirkless kid, I deserve it.”
“What makes you think that you deserve all of that?”
“I- were you listening? I’m quirkless.”
“And?”
“And quirkless kids only exist to make the quirked kids stronger.”
“God, who told you that shit? Quirkless people are not playthings for people given the gift of a quirk. If anything, quirked people should be reverant of quirkless people because they have to survive in such a horrible world without the same support!”
Midoriya just blinked. This man was saying things that he’d never even tried to imagine. Of course quirkless people had to exist in a world like this, but they would never amount to anything. There was no reason for them to try when they would just get beat down anyways.
“Midoriya, quirkless people are not lesser because they don’t have quirks. They are just as strong, and they are just as powerful.”
“How would you know? You obviously have a quirk, or else you wouldn’t be wearing such weird gloves.”
“Just because I have a quirk doesn’t mean I can’t recognize those without them for being powerful.”
“So, your quirk is weak.” There’s no other explanation for why this man is talking to him like he understands what Midoriya has been through. The only reason someone could understand what Midoriya has been through and still have a quirk is if it’s something stupid. Maybe it’s something to do with bad fashion, the hands and the gloves really don’t tie his look together.
“No.” Shigaraki wasn’t mad. He was a little insulted, but he could still see where the kid was coming from. Without taking his eyes off Midoriya, he walked over to one of the abandoned sports balls, slipped off a glove and put his fingers on it. Midoriya’s eyes widened as the ball disintegrated. “I can recognize potential. I don’t need a weak quirk to see it. And anyone would be blind to miss yours.” Shigaraki’s eyes lighted on the boy, who didn’t seem so sure about his jump anymore.
“So, answer my question then. Why do you care about my potential? What do you want from me?”
“It is my understanding that you analyze fighting patterns and find your way out of situations where you know you have an out.” He took a breath. Midoriya looked like he was going to interrupt, so Shigaraki continued, “I want you to hone that skill for two reasons. One, you could be very useful to my cause. And two, you could be powerful. If you could hone your skills and then put them into action without a quirk, you’d be unstoppable.” Shigaraki could picture it. This kid, who was the perfect image of quirkless innocence, taking down heroes left and right because they underestimated him at every turn. “But if you still want to die, instead of being famous, I won’t stop you.” He was lying, he’d grab the boy if he even made the move to turn away, but it would be so much easier if Midoriya just came willingly. When Midoriya’s head turned to look over the edge, Shigaraki tensed. But then Midoriya turned away from the edge and stepped off the edge.
“You’re a villain, then?”
Shigaraki wanted this boy to excel, so he shouldn't be one to underestimate, but he had been so careful to not say anything to reveal the fact. “No point denying it.”
“Well, alrighty then. Guess I am going to be a villain now. It’s ironic, I always wanted to be a hero.” Shigaraki waited for more information, but nothing came. They just climbed down the ladder.
“Let me call our ride.” Shigaraki hadn’t involved Kurogiri or All for One in his plan for Midoriya, this was his project. His exploration of leading and teaching. Midoriya was his, not All for One’s.