Chapter Text
Izuku Midoriya was a normal boy growing up. A loving mother, one friend/rival, and an awesome nickname to boot! With vibrant pink hair and similarly colored eyes- Izuku Midoriya was also apparently named after the wrong color- that’s what his mom would say at least. But he was just an oddity of a teen who was a mere backdrop on the stage that many referred to as life.
He of course never claimed to be a normal child growing up- his mom liked to bemoan the oddity he seemed to be strapped with. Maybe because his best friends were trees that told him whispering stories of eons long past. That wasn’t quite normal to other people.
It was nice though, for in return? They asked for nothing! Like real friends. Not like the other kids at school. They had labelled him palsy and demanded something in return for “protecting him”. Young Izuku had almost nothing so the bullies resorted to stealing whatever money or valuables may have been on his person.
Thankfully that habit died down as they grew older, and most are now content to never be seen near the weakling with the girly quirk. Jokes on them.
There was a reason that Kacchan didn’t get too close to Izuku anymore. And that was because the explosive boy was burning his hand print into trees- tress that mourned over that fact to Izuku- and it didn’t take long for Kacchan to have nightmares of twisted black limbs encasing him and suffocating him in endless blossoms. No one believed him though, but he learned and stayed away from Deku.
:The blowing breeze that comes from the sea, carries with it a tide of unjust misdeeds, not to say don’t do your best, but perhaps rest instead of venturing on your mother’s request:
The whispered hymn floated through his mind, deep and ancient with an indistinguishable gender. The oldest tree in the park hummed its usual rhymes, often with multilingual adages sprinkled in for added effect.
Today though, it didn’t harbor a story- or at least not one Izuku’s tired, school mushed brain could decipher. It was only later as he was drowning in sludge that his mind brought forth the formerly oddly formed stanzas that had made little sense before.
If Izuku could, he would absolutely facepalm because his idiotic self somehow managed not to understand Sanman’s clear cut warning of: “hey Izuku the air tastes funky, don’t do that store run your mom wanted today, aright?”
Despite his predicament Izuku could feel the trees surrounding him twine their roots in amusement- or maybe not amusement because the roots were pushing up from the concrete and wrapping around his feet, constricting his ankles.
Until another trail of roots pushed out of the concrete and tapped the sludge man’s back. And- like any villain would- the man paused in his forceful strangulation of a small child; something the roots around his ankles seemed to take advantage of by slowly dragging him down into a hole that was not there before.
Izuku had no clue what the fuck was going on, but he was able to feel the plants around him and listen to their whispers as they comforted him. He looked up just long enough to see that slime man get bitch slapped by that elongated root though, which was almost worth the forceful strangulation.
Almost, not quite. It’s for the best that he remain boring. Izuku didn’t need a life of heroics if it upset his arbor friends.
—
“Shinsou Hitoshi. Brainwashing, I’m not here to make friends.” He seated himself soon after, not bothering to flower his words in any way. Apparently the boy behind him had no such qualms.
“Midoriya Izuku; my quirk is Cherry Blossom but I like to call it ‘Plantation Strangulation’ after the trees strangled my old bully,” Present Mic choked on his spit and bent over his podium coughing, “I will strangle anyone that touches my trees.” The boy seated himself with a satisfied hum.
The class was dead silent apart from Mic’s aborted gasps as he pounded his chest.
“Guys? I think Mic-Sensei is choking-“
Hitoshi heard the air displacement before he felt it, and right enough the boy behind him was trotting towards Mic– and holy fuck his hair was pink– only for Mic to scramble away in panic and chuck himself out the door.
That left the pink haired boy awkwardly standing in front of the class for a few moments before he shrugged and walked back to his desk. Hitoshi noticed that each step he took, flowers bloomed around his legs and crept up his ankles. Only to wither and die soon after.
The class was silent for about four seconds before students began to form little posses and chatting. Hitoshi didn’t partake in this, he wasn’t wrong about his statement to not make friends; sleep was better than friends.
Something poked him. Hard.
“Hey, broody lavender boy,” Hitoshi turned to the boy behind him, ready to use his quirk to order the teen to just shut up. Except he came face to face with a small wooden pot of lavender flowers.
“What the fuck is this school,” he let his head hit his desk. And as if to add insult to injury, he felt that Mido-something somehow balance the small wooden pot of lavender on the back of his head.
He knew he should’ve gone for Shiketsu.
—
Now, Aizawa was a person of habit, he preferred schedules and organization. So when Hizashi smashed through his classroom mere moments after the first bell, it’s no surprise that the blond teacher was immediately wrapped in cloth.
“Mic.”
“Shouta, please, please, please take this kid off my hands. We were doing introductions and he said he preferred to call his quirk plantation strangulation and that he’s strangled people before!!!” Mic had reached up and started to pull at his hair, a note of hysteria entering his tone.
“No.”
Shouta shoved his blabbering husband off of him and mentally sighed. Mic had come in before he could scare the kids, which has already ruined his plans. Fuck it.
“Fine,” he scrubbed his hands down his face, “just send him to the field and I’ll watch him.”
Mic was almost sobbing in relief as he left the room, followed by Shouta after he gave his students their directions and his usual threats.
He was on the portion of the field that was used for the ball throws, currently setting up the measuring equipment and making sure everything was in order. Until a he heard the crunching of grass, grass that was not present on this section of the field.
“Hiya!”
It was a short, abnormally short, pink haired boy that had greeted him. His eyes were shut as he smiled, and somehow he could only wonder how or why this student had scared Mic so badly.
That was obvious when the smaller Iida came sprinting onto the field, almost stepping directly into the small patch of grass and flowers that surrounded the boy- except he didn’t get close enough to do any harm to the plants. A root shot out of the ground and wrapped itself around his leg before yanking the boy down a slowly widening hole.
Pink-haired boy was still smiling sunnily like he wasn’t about to bury alive another student.
Everything was clearly fine.