Chapter Text
Inko and Hisashi Midoriya where a normal family thank you very much. Mrs Midoriya could levitate small objects and Mr Midoriya could breathe fire. Useful enough quirks. They weren’t heroes, they had normal jobs, nurse and office worker- they had a simple apartment in the middle of Musutafu. They also had a son, messy green hair that would never stay styled; wide bright emerald eyes; freckles galore, covering his cheeks and nose like stars in the night sky. He was four when this story starts.
All his friends in kindergarten had already started showing signs of quirks, and yet little Izuku had no such signs.
“I can’t wait to be a hero Kachan!” Izuku giggles, skipping along trying to catch up to the blond boy who was walking fast into a wood where they often go to play.
“Shut it, nerd- you’ll never be a hero if you don’t get your quirk soon!” the blond snarls. It wasn’t very effective but Izuku frowns nonetheless and slows down.
“I can be a hero with or without a quirk Kachan!” little Izuku stands strong, determination burning in his 4-year-old eyes. Kachan ‘tched’ and turns away.
“Whatever, you’ll still never be as great as me!” he sneers, walking faster.
Izuku chased after the blond boy, Bakugou, everyday he would put Izuku down. As his quirk grew stronger, he started aiming his explosions; Izuku being his most frequent target. While Bakugou’s quirk grew, Izuku was yet to show any signs. He started writing in notebooks “Hero notes: for the future” so he could be ready when the time came. He took to analysis like a duck to water. He loved watching heroes. However, in his 5-year-old ways, writing was a struggle- he kept to pictures and asking his mom to write for him. He loved watching heroes save people with their quirk- he often sat in front of the computer at home and watched clips of All-Might, the number one hero and Izuku’s favourite hero.
His first entry was however of Bakugou; Katsuki Bakugou (Kachan). quirk: Explosion. He makes explosions with his hands. Accompanied by childish drawing of what was supposedly Bakugou and his explosions. So far, he had only been able to describe quirks, learning to understand individual quirks.
Izuku should have a quirk. That was a fact- it was past due; he should have a quirk. But he didn’t. and so, Inko Midorya decided (and this was a fatal mistake) instead of waiting, she’d take Izuku to the hospital. They’d planned to take the child when he turned 6- the age that almost everyone already had their quirk, to grip onto hope that Izuku was just a very late bloomer. Izuku’s father was working that day, the two went alone.
The doctor’s room was cold, and a sort of dull blue colour Izuku mused. He assumed that it was supposed to be a calming colour, but the young boy had a haunting sense of doom. He sat, legs dangling off the bed, disposable sheet crinkling under the restless movements of the boy. Izuku’s heart dropped to his toes when he caught sight of his mother.
“Mama? What’s wrong?” Izuku’s voice spoke out as his eyes tracked a tear roll over his mother’s cheek as she stared at the x-ray. Izuku didn’t understand.
“Sorry kid, you’ve got the double toe joint.” The doctor told Izuku, he seemed tired. “You’re quirk-less.” He answers, almost bored, to the young boy’s panicky confused stare. Cotton filled his ears, hearing nothing over the rushing in his head.
He let his mother mindlessly steer him out of the doctors and to the car. The car ride was silent, the green-haired boy watched rain roll down the window. Izuku’s mother said nothing when they got home. She didn’t turn on all the warm lights like she usually did, the apartment drenched in dull almost-darkness, an eerie deep blue coated the furniture. She sat down silently at the dining table, no sign of emotion except the slight crease in her eyebrows. Izuku hesitantly sat on the couch, he knew better than to talk to his mother. This was okay, he reasoned, he could still be a hero- that’s what he told Kachan. He could still be happy; he didn’t understand why his mother seemed so upset. Maybe she was worried? Why though? Izuku was confused, but he didn’t dare ask his mother, lest he upset her more. He moved to get off the couch and retreat to his room.
The door creaked; the sound felt like the door locking in one of those horror movies he wasn’t allowed to watch yet but Bakugou had shown him.
“Honey! I’m home.” Hisashi called out in habit, hanging his coat on the hooks by the door. “How’d the doctor’s appointment go?” Hisashi frowns when his eyes lock onto his wife. “what’s wrong? What happened?” concern and panic laced his words. Inko suddenly lurches into life- clinging to her husband, sobbing horrible wrenching cries. Sorry’s and begs for forgiveness tumbled out of her mouth. Izuku stood frozen still, clutching to the side of the sofa, tears spilling silently down his cheeks, wide eyes full of confusion and concern. He didn’t know what was going on. Hisashi, with silent anger neither son nor mother had ever seen before, wretched himself free pushing his wife back, fury swirling in his eyes. She fell to the floor sobbing. Her pleas turned desperate, begging Izuku to go.
“Izuku! Go, baby, please!” she cried, Izuku shook with fear- frozen still. His dad turns from the sobbing woman floundering on the ground to the scared child. The proverbial axe hung above Izuku’s world. “Quirkless. My son! Quirkless?? No. You’re no son of mine. I will not have a useless, worthless, defenceless son! Get out.” The axe fell. His world caving around him. Izuku shrunk in on himself, tears stopping in shock. “Can you not hear now?! I said GET OUT!” Scorching fire roared, spilling from the man’s throat. Izuku screamed. Blind in angry and fear, the man could not see what he’d just done.
White hot pain radiated across the boys left arm and across his left cheek and brow. Izuku clenched his eyes shut in reflex, curling into himself. It happened so fast but in Izuku’s mind, time slowed. A fierce itch burst across his back, winding and writhing. Izuku’s scream of pain turned into screams of agony. Izuku’s eyes shot open, pupils blown wide and crazed- falling to the ground on his knees, arms wretched outward, fingers clawing the air as the boy screamed. Large towering wings burst from his back in an explosion of feathers and blood. His arms got darker- fingers and nails turning claw-like. Legs becoming animalistic. His skin changed too, turning darker and rougher in his limbs. His eyes glowed eerily green. In the horrible lighting of fire burning his home, Izuku’s eyes glinted crazily, lost to pain and agony. Hisashi was lost in fear and panic, loosing control of his quirk. He inhaled and shouted. Izuku would remember this moment forever, his face stinging something fierce, back wet with his own blood, his mama crying and begging- he watched as his father inhaled. His home was in flames. Inko cried, Hisashi fell to the floor on his knees.
“Not quirk less, but with a quirk like that; You’re destined to be a villain. You’re no son of mine.” Hisashi said, shockingly quiet, beyond anger, beyond anything the boy had ever seen. His father fell, succumbing to smoke inhalation and exhaustion.
Izuku’s mind was screaming at him to get away, but his body wouldn’t listen. He was stuck, frozen still. His mama screamed at him then, telling him to run, to escape, before coughing violently and falling completely to the ground in a heap. Izuku’s mind emptied- all that was left was pure instinct. He ran. (not without grabbing his shoes and his backpack- his 5-year-old logic stated he needed them) He sprinted past his father’s body, jumped down the stairs, shot out the building. He ran past the police barricade that had formed outside his building; he ran through the crowed surrounding. He ran past Bakugou, missing the scared, worried expression as he saw Izuku and his wings. He ran and ran and ran.
Exhaustion caught up to him, causing his vision to go dark around the edges. Tumbling and crashing to the ground. He had made it to the wood he played in as a child, bright green trees- open blue skies. A complete contrast to the fire-fuelled storm inside the boy’s body. He struggled to breathe, each breath rattling in his chest and sounding raspy and sore to his own ears. He wondered if this is how he died, because of his own father. He’d always looked up to his father, his quirk. Thinking of that made Izuku aware of the red-hot burns on his face and arm. He tried to push himself up to look at his wounds, but his body had a different idea. Blackness completely swallowed his vision, his body floating away into nothingness.
When he came to, his wings had dissolved into half the size of before, tucking nicely into his back. His skin had gone back to his normal complexion instead of the dark skin of before. Claws disappeared too; he was completely back to normal- apart form the wings. He didn’t know where to go, but he knew that he couldn’t stay here. He slowly sat up, using his right arm to push himself up into sitting legs crossed. He tucks his left arm close to his body, not wanting to stretch the burnt skin. He let himself cry. Tears falling off freckled cheeks, landing on soft green grass. His t-shirt was ripped at the back, one large hole missing from his back; his green shorts were covered in ash, blood and dirt. His shoes where safe though, small mercies and all that.
The boy rubs at his eyes, his feet had gone back to normal, so he put his shoes on now. He thought about what he should do, he had no money, no where to live, no food or water. The boy struggles to his feet, he shouldn’t stay in one place too long. His dad had called him a villain, maybe he was? Would the police try find him? He didn’t want to stay to find out. Getting to his feet shakily, the boy was determined to figure out what to do next. He knew homeless people existed, so it shouldn’t be too hard to live on the street for few days, then he’d go back and try find his mother.
He headed back towards the centre of the city, but not to where he lived. His eyes landed on what honestly felt like an oasis surrounded by dessert- a corner shop. He was suddenly grateful for his habit of saving his pocket money and keeping it in a secret bit of his backpack. He’d hidden it when one day Kachan had stolen his pocket money claiming because he was better than Izuku he deserved it more. But Izuku was smart and hid it from then out. Running into the shop he headed to the first aid section, being friends with Kachan made him unfortunately proficient at dealing with burns. He grabs burn cream, gauze and bandages.
The cashier didn’t even look up when the boy deposited his supplies, ringing him up without looking at him once. Izuku packed his bag with the supplies goes to turn to walk out. His eyes catch on the tv in the corner. There; home, engulphed in flames, there; his mom pronounced dead, there; his dad, being lead with handcuffs into a police van. His father did that. Because of him. How many people had died or got injured because of him? Self-hatred swallowed him up.
He made his way to a building he knew was abandoned slowly; brain full of cotton yet again. Once there he collapsed, horrible ugly sobs wrecked the small boy’s frame. His family, all he knew- gone. At it was all his fault. if he’d just tried harder to trigger his quirk- none of this wouldn’t have happened! He curled up on himself tighter, hands buried in his hair tugged, breathing ragged and rough, tears not stopping until finally- curled up, hungry as he hadn’t thought of food earlier, and in agony because of his burns he hadn’t treated yet- he passed out, blackness taking over his vision for the second time that day. Later, he reasoned that due to his emotional and physical state being drastically worse than usual, that this triggered a deeper part of his quirk.
When he woke, he was no longer a human boy.