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The quirkless have a code of sorts.
Used exclusively in whispers and password protected forums and in colored shoe laces.
It's hard being a minority.
Especially in this world that had turned its eyes from the older social issues in order to throw themselves wholeheartedly into their love of quirks. And their hate of those without. If the quirkless breed it will just postpone the inevitable after all. So why let them get that far?
Of course not many people had actually thought that much into it. It was just the attitude that was drilled into their brains from the moment of their birth. Those with powerful quirks lived powerful lives. Those without quirks shouldn't live at all.
And so, over the years, those on the wrong side of the line build a code. Something to protect themselves. Something to help, even if just a little bit. And they defended their life line fiercely, doing their absolute best to keep it out of ear and eye shot of those who would twist it. Turn it around. Use it to hurt them instead.
The first thing Izuku, too young and small and impressionable to be on the internet so freely, learned was how to find the passwords onto the forums. A middle aged lady from down the street heard about his diagnosis and told him where to look. She moved a few weeks later after she lost yet another job and thus lost her apartment, but Izuku would always remember her for her trembling smile and shaking hands as she handed him the tool he needed to survive.
From there he quickly caught on to the code. The terms used for different types of quirks, and the people they were attached to.
Perf, for those with the perfect quirks, held up on a pedestal by society. Perfect quirks, perfect lives, perfectly ignorant to those suffering around them.
Cuff, for those who were almost destined to end up in quirk suppression cuffs. Villainous, dangerous, or grotesque. Eventually they would have slim metal bands around their wrists or neck. Either forced there by court order or as a last ditch self restraint.
Thread, for those with visible mutations. Named for the everyday clothing or other household items that have to be specialized to accommodate their quirk.
Track, those with quirks deemed weak. They could fall on either side of the tracks. Either they find a way to settle into society with or without their quirk. Or they end up a b ranked criminal doing their best to scrape by.
And last but not least. Lace, the quirkless. Named for their use of the shoelace code. A layer of communication amongst the community that developed early on. Back when fewer and fewer companies were making shoes for their extra wide feet. About 50 years ago there were only 3 left, and they got together and decided to make them all in a signature red. Bright and eye-catching. And the community decided that if they were going to be forcibly singled out, however unnoticed the discrimination went amongst the geral public, then they might as well turn it to their advantage.
And that's where the laces came in. A quirkless person could change the color of their shoelaces and tell any other quirkless person who saw them a wealth of information.
Black meant they were a safe place for any others of their kind.
Grey meant they were managing mentally but didn't mind talking.
White meant they were in a bad space, either physically or mentally. It meant they needed help if it was on offer. But to be careful when approaching.
There were other colors of course but those three were the most widely used.
And then there were the marks. They were everywhere. Discrete little symbols hatched into brickwork or scribbled in sharpie. A way to tell eachother what businesses were willing to work with them. Where to avoid. Who was trustworthy. The danger signs were sadly a lot more common.
And even though he is no longer a Lace. (Not quite. But will he ever really be anything else? How much could a useless Deku truly change after all?) He still knows the code. Wears the shoes. Black and grey laces trading places day to day. Because for all he is a Perf now. He still has the body of a Lace. Feet and all.
And when, a few weeks into second year, he walks a patrol with Aizawa and several of his classmates (A bit of extra practice on offer due to a shortage of heros in the area that week.) and finds a small preteen getting the snot beaten out of her in a back alley he sees the shoes and understands exactly what is happening. But unlike middle school Deku high school Deku can actually help. So he reacts. Faster even than his teacher, shoving his way between the bullies and the tiny figure curled up on the dirty ground.
He's almost growling with rage. Flashes of his own time spent curled around vital areas vivid and bright in the forefront of his mind. He hisses out a string of vitriolic admonishments at the four young boys in front of him. They step back, fear in their eyes as gazes track lightning sparks and glowing red danger signals across freckled skin. But before they could run Eraserhead was there. His own disapproving gaze locked onto middle school ruffians, letting them know that the cops were called and that there were six provisionally licensed heros waiting for them if they tried to run. He then ordered them to step back and away from their victim. Kaminari stepping forwards to pull them further towards the mouth of the alley.
When they were far enough the pro took a small step to the girl still huddled in on herself behind his student, only to be shocked as the warning growl was turned on to him instead. "Problem child?" The quiet utterance of his nickname seemed to bring a bit of awareness back into the boy. Enough for him to at least register the presence infront of him as Aizawa, Sensei, safe.
And then the sparks die out and Izuku is whirling around to crouch, two scant feet between him and the tiny scrap of humanity who was still cowering, still afraid, still waiting for the next blow. He takes a breath. Then another. Centering himself back into the present. He is the hero in training Deku. Not the quirkless, worthless, powerless Deku.
Bracing himself he started tapping out a quiet rhythm on the asphalt by his knee. The drum line for a song popular amongst the community. Referenced often on the forums in jokes and quips. After a moment he also began to hum along with the chorus. He didn't really have the voice for it to sound too great, but that wasn't the point here.
Luckily the song worked wonders like he had hoped it would. After a moment confused and curious blue eyes peeked out from the ball of injured preteen. They almost instantly zeroed in on his bright red shoes, the color matching hers perfectly. The change in posture was rapid and shocking. She relaxed quickly, unfurling a bit, only wincing a little as something pulled or ached.
Unfortunately that was when she caught sight of the man behind him, and his very not red boots. She whimpered and flinched away. And Izuku instantly went into fix it mode. "Hey it's ok. He's a Track, was probably treated as a Cuff at some point too. But he's cool. A hero even. He won't hurt you I promise." Blue eyes tracked back to red shoes, then to the hero who was slouching in an effort to look less menacing. After a minute she sniffled and used the sleeve of her cream sweater to dab at her bleeding nose. "Promise?"
"Lace's honor."
At that she relaxed a bit more. His use of the code helped her trust him more than his stopping her bullies ever could. "My name is Deku. Can I get yours?"
"Kimi…" He smiled a bit at the show of trust before turning his head to look over his shoulder at his teacher. "Eraserhead. Judging by her pupils we have a concussion at the very least…"
That made Aizawa frown, but the man at least had the sense to not step closer to look for himself. "We need to get her medical attention then. I'll call for an ambulance." The girl huffed at that. Sour amusement clear, and secretly Izuku had to agree with her. "S-sorry sir. N-no paramedic around here will b-be willing to help someone like m-me." That made the pro's frown deepen. But Izuku was nodding along with her statement.
"If you want Kimi, there was a clinic a few streets over that was safe. I'll carry you over ok?" The girl hummed in thought for a moment before looking back at his shoes with their black laces and her own laced white. Eventually she gave a slight nod and Izuku turned his back to face her. Crouched for easy accessibility. After a few minutes of dizzy fumbling she was lifted and being held securely her battered black messenger bag fished from a pile of trash by a scarred hand.
And when the girl flinched as the pro fell into step next to them acid green eyes shot a warning glare at his teacher that he never would have dared at any other time. But the code said that Black helped White and he was going to be a hero and heros protected and he was wearing Black so he would help and protect her White. Stained with her blood though they may be.
And then they were walking. And Aizawa was giving orders to the others at the end of the shadowed alley way. Letting them know that the cops would be there any moment. Telling them to give their reports of the incident and then head back to UA. To wait in the common room after they dressed out for his debrief.
Izuku didn't pause to listen or to acknowledge the confusion of his classmates. He did make sure to give one last poison filled glare to the bullies lined up against the wall, reveling a bit in their flinches. But then they were past the group and on to the relatively quiet street and Izuku was heading towards the clinic he had noted as safe sometime last year.
His teacher caught up with them quickly. Making sure to keep a pace or two away, plenty of room for them to feel a bit safer. They made quick work of making their way the few streets over. The walk takes barely ten minutes. And the whole time Izuku hummed the song under his breath. When they turned onto the right street the teen couldn't help but relax a bit. He was glad they had been close so that she could get help. That, and while he didn't mind carrying her, her nose was still bleeding and it was soaking into the fabric of his costume. Which was a little bit gross, and a little bit triggering.
He scanned the brickwork of the building as they approached the door. Only to feel his heart sink as he found what he was looking for. Kimi whimpered pitifully and he knew she had seen it too. The half circle sitting on top of a horizontal line had been scratched out and half of a heart with an x underneath it had been carved into the bricks instead.
Izuku swore colorfully under his breath. Ignoring the sharp look his teacher gave him at using profanity while in costume. Regardless, the man didn't say anything outright. Just stopped walking when they did and waited, knowing instinctually that the kids knew something he didn't and therefore that he should follow their lead in this.
So they stopped. And took a few breaths. And then Deku was pulling his phone out of his pocket, maps app opening with a flick of his thumb. "OK… the next clinic is five miles away… not too bad. Do you know if they're a sunny spot Kimi?" She hummed out an unsure answer and the hero student sighed. "Guess we're going to find out then." He turns to start walking back the was they came, intending on back tracking a bit until he came to the right turn as mapped out for him on the device in his hand. But Aizawa used that moment to stop them, asking the question he had been pondering for a while by that point. "Wait problem child. Why not bring her to UA? Recovery Girl should still be on campus."
The green haired teen paused. Blue eyes peeked at the man over his shoulder, shy and distrustful. "I… I don't know if she would be willing to help. There aren't any… I don't." The boy frowned, obviously struggling with how to articulate his thought process on the matter. "Kid. Look at me please."
When his student did as asked Aizawa did his best to set his expression to one of absolute sincerity. "Recovery Girl will help. If she tries to get out of it I'll make sure she no longer has a job." His words have two sets of jewel colored eyes studying him. Searching for a lie. For any hint of uncertainty. But the two kids with matching shoes find nothing worrying in the exhausted looking man standing before them. So after a few more moments and a quick conference between them, they nod. And their small group heads back towards the school at the edge of town.
It wasn't until an hour or two later, with Kimi dozing peacefully in a bed in the infirmary and the other hellspawn properly debriefed and filling out the small amount of paperwork required for such a short patrol, that Aizawa finally pulled Izuku aside. It took a lot of coaxing, uncharacteristic gentle words, and a year's worth of built up trust. But eventually Izuku was sobbing into his hero's shoulder spilling truths about his past and codes and the stinging insidious pain. The type of pain that comes from discrimination and the systematic grinding of a people into dust.
And if in a few weeks there was a whole series of classes on abuse and how whole communities of people slip through the cracks. How to find these people. How to recognize their signals to each other. And how to help them. Well the whole of society will be better for it when class A finally steps up after their graduation and begins the long climb towards fixing the things that have been oh so wrong for oh so long.