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Izuku is in awe. That power…did that really come from him?
“Oh my gosh, you saved me! I can’t believe you took out the zero-pointer all by yourself! That was unbelievable!”
He wants to see his hands, to see if they look different now—stronger. Like All Might’s.
“I’m so sorry I slapped you! Are you okay?”
But when he tries to lift his arms, his vision swims and he chokes back a cry at the pain.
“Oh my gosh! Your arm! Oh my god, your legs!”
Her pitch is getting higher and higher and higher and panic is bleeding in. Izuku thinks she should probably take some deep breaths.
“Over here! Medic! Teacher! Someone!”
She’s practically screaming, now.
He considers trying to reassure her, maybe walking her through a breathing exercise, but he might break down if he opens his mouth. So he says nothing, like he has all day. Like he did when the same girl saved him from faceplanting this morning, like he did when they lined up outside the examination grounds, like he has every day for what feels like an eternity but has actually been less than a week. Less than a week since his world was turned upside down.
What is there to say, honestly?
“Oh, my poor dearie. Your own quirk did this to you? It’s like your body doesn’t know how to handle it. Like it isn’t used to it at all.”
And that’s what finally wrenches words out of him, because how did this old woman know precisely how to hurt him most?
“No—” he croaks emphatically, because maybe she doesn’t know what she’s saying, maybe she has no idea how right she is, but it’s not going to be Izuku who reinforces that idea. Not when this secret is the last thing All Might trusted him with. Not when it’s all he has left of his idol.
He turns his head toward the voice, clenching his jaw through the pain and doing his best to ignore the spots clouding his vision, and—oh! It’s Recovery Girl, the youthful heroine! A part of him is still excited, through the pain in his limbs and the fog in his head and the immeasurable void in his chest.
“…it wasn’t your quirk that did this?”
“No,” he tries again, scrambling to explain. But what can he say? His mouth keeps moving without his input. “It is my quirk, it is. I just…overdid it a little, that’s all. It’s not a big deal.” His voice is hoarse, but he forces the words past the pain clogging his throat, spits them out past gritted teeth.
“Has this happened before?” She’s prodding at his neck, shining a light in one eye, then the other. “Did you know this was a possibility?”
His eyes sting. Of course Izuku didn’t know. But…what about All Might? He warned Izuku about the necessity of strengthening his body the first time they trained together—warned him that his arms might “blow off” if he received the quirk too soon—but Izuku trained for ten long months, cleared Dagobah Beach with nothing but his own power. All Might told him he was strong enough, that he was proud, that he was ready. And just in time, too—only a week before the UA entrance exam, All Might gave Izuku his power.
Had All Might known this was a possibility?
Izuku can’t ask. Not anymore.
The weight of it hits him, then—the enormity of his ignorance. He can think of so many questions about the quirk, now that he’s tried to use it, but there isn’t a soul alive he can ask. Every day of his life stretches out in front of him, and in all of them, he is ignorant.
He tries to look at his hands.
“For goodness’ sake, child, don’t move!”
He lets himself go limp against the ground.
He didn’t sleep, the night everything fell apart. He waited up, and didn’t go to school, and no one came. Mom didn’t come home, Yagi didn’t call or come looking for him. Izuku didn’t really expect them to, but he couldn’t help hoping.
No one else came, either. No police, no social workers. He couldn’t bring himself to check the news, but he figured they were probably still cleaning up the collapse.
He finally passed out on the floor in front of the couch around eleven the next morning, in spite of the sun streaming in through the living room window.
He was pretty sure no one came while he was asleep, or that night. They didn’t come the next day either.
Surely someone knew he was there, right?
He thought of TV shows, of a police officer showing up at the door, taking off his hat, saying, I’m sorry, ma’am, it’s about your husband…
No police officers showed up and took off their hats at Izuku.
He spent five days in a haze, looking up at the door intermittently. He wasn’t hungry, but he snacked enough that he ran through all the food in the apartment. He didn’t go outside, he didn’t to school, and he didn’t check the news. He didn’t do anything but sleep and wait.
And no one came.
Then, he got an email.
From: UA Admissions < [email protected] >
To: AllMight Fan < [email protected] >
Subject: Entrance Exam Details
Dear Mr. Midoriya,
It’s nearly time! We look forward to seeing you at 9:00 a.m. this coming Monday for the UA General Entrance Exam. Please see the attached PDF for a detailed itinerary as well as a list of what to bring with you. We encourage you to start the day with a healthy breakfast and recommend having a parent or guardian pick you up after the exam. The day is expected to conclude at 3:00 p.m.
Give it your all! Plus Ultra!
UA Admissions
A quick burst of excitement flared in Izuku’s chest, but it was forcefully overpowered by guilt.
UA was his lifelong dream—but it was a dream he had all but given up on, until he met Yagi. Well…he had actually given up on it, because of his encounter with All Might, but only for a few hours. Yagi had given him hope, and even better, training. And most importantly, a quirk.
How could Izuku become a hero without him?
He didn’t have any idea how to use the quirk he supposedly had. He didn’t feel any different. Quirks usually manifested in childhood, automatically, without kids needing to try. Izuku had always assumed that once their quirks came in, the other kids just instinctively knew how to activate them, the same way he knew how to breathe. Once he’d finally accepted that he was actually quirkless, that the doctor hadn’t been lying, Izuku figured it was a feeling he’d never understand.
Well, he still didn’t understand it, but he was going to have to try. Because although the thought of going to UA on Monday without Yagi or his mom to see him off was horrible, the idea that he would stay home—give up—was even worse. Yagi had worked with him nearly every day for ten months to get him to this point. All Might had given him his quirk, given it up, so that Izuku could become a hero.
There was no way Izuku was going to let all that effort go to waste.
So even though it made the ache in his chest a million times worse, even though it took every ounce of energy he had, Izuku left the apartment. He used the last of his money to get some frozen meals at the corner store. It would have to do.
“Poor kid… What a terrible accident.”
“Mhmm, terrible.”
“What do you think will happen to him? He’s quirkless, right?”
“Yep, that’s what I’ve heard. If you ask me, child services are as likely to lock him up or send him somewhere terrible as they are to help him.”
“Poor kid. And there’s no family?”
“I’ve never seen any. He’ll be lucky to end up on the streets, that boy.”
“Oh, my! I certainly hope it doesn’t come to that!”
“Well, what else? Are you going to take him in?”
“Oh—well…”
“Yeah, exactly.”
“…poor kid.”
“Mhmm.”
Izuku waited until the neighbor and the landlady left the hallway before tiptoeing around the corner and back to his apartment. His bag of frozen meals suddenly felt three times as heavy. He struggled to force the air in and out of his lungs as he fumbled with his keys.
“I’m home—”
He cut himself off with a gasping sob, and the pit in his chest grew larger.
It had been easier to ignore, when he’d been isolating himself in the apartment. He could pretend that he was dreaming, that this nightmare only existed in the space he was inhabiting, that when he went outside, he would re-enter reality.
But the silence when he came home was impossible to argue with. It all felt real, suddenly, in a way it hadn’t before. Izuku didn’t want it to feel real. Even though he knew he couldn’t change it, that his mom was never coming back, that Yagi wasn’t going to call, he just…wanted to pretend. Just for a little while longer. If he let himself feel the full weight of what was happening, he was sure he wouldn’t make it to the exam on Monday. And he had to make it to the exam. Without UA…he didn’t let himself think about it.
So after choking down his frozen chicken and rice Izuku pushed his feelings as far away as he could, took a few deep breaths, and began to run through his stretches.
He’s walking out of UA’s infirmary one moment and kicking off his shoes at home the next. He isn’t sure how he got home or how long it took, but the living room window is dark.
His legs buckle before he makes it to the couch—they’re trembling under him, and he knows he should eat something, but—
There’s no way he passed that exam.
It starts as a low, guttural sound, too big for his throat. It’s like air leaking out a tire, the way he cries, except somehow the pressure inside him is going up. He wants to scream, but his anger is no match for the sobs lurching out of his chest.
No way no way no wa y no wayno wa y n o w a y
He bangs his fists on the ground and presses the heels of his hands into his eyes so hard he sees white.
Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck—
He thought...he doesn't know what he thought. That doing well in the exam would make everything okay again? That he’d come home to find Mom alive after all, prepping a celebratory dinner? And Yagi too?
He thinks, maybe, he'd been hoping to prove that there was something of Yagi left in him, some warmth or heroism. Something to make him great. He thought it would feel right, even if he was still alone afterwards.
Even though he didn’t do as well on the written exam as he should have, even though he hadn’t gotten a single point, he thought—he thought he might still be able to do something. And then, when he saw that girl about to be crushed…
People can die, even when you think they’re safe. People can just die. There's no such thing as safe.
His feet moved without waiting for him to finish the thought, and he was flying, and he thought I can still save someone, and—
—and then the pain caught up with him, and he was falling, and even though All Might always saved people with a smile, he just couldn’t. And the girl didn’t smile either.
No, using a quirk didn’t feel anything like he expected. It felt awful and wrong and it was scary and it hurt. One For All isn’t warm or bright. It’s nothing like All Might. It’s a raw and terrible force, something he can’t control, something his body can barely contain.
It could destroy him. It did destroy him, and it was only because of Recovery Girl that he isn’t looking at months of recovery time and casts and probably a hospital stay and oh my god there’s no way I could afford that—
The heat of his initial breakdown is gone, and he’s left cold and aching and still struggling to breathe. He pulls his knees tightly against his chest and presses his eyes to his kneecaps. He’s shaking, from exhaustion and despair and panic and probably low blood sugar.
And fear, he jabs at himself.
How can he hope to harness a power like All Might’s quirk? There’s no way. He can’t think of a single thing he could have done differently except to just be better. He failed, and it was ugly.
At least Yagi didn’t have to see that, or Mom.
It breaks his heart the moment he thinks it. He doesn’t mean it. He wanted them there, to comfort him and give him hope.
I didn’t mean it I don’t mean it come back come back comebackplease, please
His tears are hot and snot is dripping into his mouth. He imagines Mom’s arms around him (oh, Izu), Yagi’s hand on his shoulder (my boy…). He wonders, if Yagi kept training him, what advice would he offer? He tries to think of what Mom would say to comfort him, what her hands would feel like carding through his hair.
But there’s no one in the apartment and only his own hands clutching at his hair, pulling so hard his whole body rocks forward with each tug.
There’s no one in the world to help him. If it weren’t for the neighbor and the landlady, he might wonder if he’d ever existed at all.
His blood runs cold. The landlady—
Rent. I have no money and I can’t pay rent and I have nowhere to go and no one is coming for me and I can’t get a job and I can’t even get into high school and I’m alone and no one will take me in because I’m quirkless I’m supposed to be quirkless and I’m alone
It’s almost the end of the month—only a matter of time before he has nowhere to stay. No one to stay with. And even if he had family…he’s dangerous now, isn’t he?
He whimpers, pathetically, remembering the force of his punch. Against a robot, it was terrifying but awe-inspiring. That same power applied to a human body...
A chill runs down his spine.
Unheroic, he scolds himself.
But the pain in his limbs was so much more than anything he ever imagined. It didn’t just hurt—it was overwhelming, nauseating. What kind of hero would he be, if that’s what his power did to him?
Even if he could keep from blowing villains apart when he punched them, he isn’t sure he'd be able to willingly inflict that level of pain on himself. Although Recovery Girl healed him (he’s looked at his hands too many times to count, and they still look the same as they did this morning, like nothing happened), even though he knows the pain is gone, the sensations linger. His broken bones are like phantom limbs overlayed on the healed ones. He can’t stop picturing the sick purple color, blood pooling under the skin, the way his legs twisted in the wind as he fell.
No, I can’t, can’t do that again—don’t care if it’s unheroic, pathetic—no one to see me anyway—no one knows—no
Last week, Izuku lost everything but this curse of a quirk. Now, he knows he doesn’t even have that, not really. Not in any way that matters.
He has nothing.