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The Casita was starting to fall apart.
Izuku honestly had no idea why no one else could see the cracks in the walls; To him, they felt ever-present, always there in the background, no matter what he was doing.
But whenever he tried to actually point them out to someone -- whether it be his mama or papa or his uncles or anyone, really -- the cracks always seemed to briefly disappear.
He had considered, for a very short moment, to just constantly point them out to someone, but Izuku supposed that would be just a cosmetic fix. It wouldn’t change the structural damage he suspected existed behind the walls.
And it started to affect others.
Well, it started to affect his sister, but Izuku was pretty sure it would have spread to others if he hadn’t done something about it.
Ochako was having troubles. She tried to hide them, of course, but Izuku was more observant than most… And also Ochako trusted him more than most.
Her anti-gravity was failing, occasionally. Taking away less and less weight from each object she used it on. It had happened so gradually, so slowly, she hadn’t noticed until the time came when she had to move the ever-escaping donkeys in two trips instead of the usual one.
And who knows if Uncle Oboro didn’t have troubles summoning his clouds, or if Kyoka’s range of hearing shortened, or if Himiko had issues shapeshifting?
The Gifts were fading.
There was, really, only one thing he could do.
Izuku used the time when everyone else was in the city -- using their Gifts to help the villagers the way he couldn’t do -- and he followed the cracks.
Straight towards the one doors no one had dared to open in years now.
Uncle Shouta had disappeared without a word, nearly overnight. And ever since then, no one had ever even tried to talk about him. Or, if someone did…
We don’t talk about Shouta, no no no!
Uncle Hisashi had an entire song written, with parts for pretty much everyone but Abuelo and Izuku’s parents -- even some random villagers! -- listing exactly why Uncle Shouta had been subjected to the verbal exile.
So, of course, he had to explore the tower.
It seemed… Abandoned, for the most part. Understandable, considering no one had set foot in there for over half a decade, but very inconvenient for Izuku.
How exactly was he meant to climb up a nearly sheer cliff? He only had the vaguest memories of Uncle Shouta, but the song served well to jog his memory, so he knew the man was most known for his weirdly mobile scarf… After his extremely abrasive nature, that is.
Izuku suspected that’s exactly what Uncle Shouta used to get up and down from his room.
Thankfully, however, upon short investigation, it seemed the Casita was on Izuku’s side. There was a very narrow staircase, off to the side. Climbing up it with his head filled with thoughts and prayers, Izuku had managed to get inside Uncle Shouta’s room.
It was…. Clustered. Very clustered. Why would Uncle Shouta ever need a giant basket full of jelly pouches, Izuku could not say. Almost seemed like that had been the only thing he was planning on eating, which was kind of rude, considering Izuku’s father -- and Uncle Shouta’s own brother, Toshinori -- was great at cooking.
Well, he had to be, with a healing quirk like his.
For now however, Izuku elected to ignore the mess and focus on trying to find some sort of a clue as to what was happening. He didn’t actually think there was anything there -- not with so many years, not when Shouta’s power wasn’t technically future sight -- but the cracks led there for a reason.
Izuku was determined to find out what the reason was.
There were a lot of papers stuck to one of the walls, red yarn connecting them in haphazard patterns. He slowly approached the board, trying to make heads and tails of it.
Getting closer did not help. If anything, it made it even worse, considering it destroyed Izuku’s delusion that there was something wrong with his eyes. The writing didn’t seem any more legible at ten inches away than it had from the other end of the room.
As he moved across the board, Izuku tripped on something lying on the floor. He collapsed, just narrowly avoiding taking one of the jelly baskets with him.
The culprit -- the thing responsible for his loss of balance -- was a very lumpy yellow mass of,,, something. Izuku honestly had no idea what it could have been.
And then the lump started moving.
Izuku started screaming. He didn’t stop at any point during the lump’s journey from horizontal to vertical placement, and he hadn’t stopped when the lump carved itself open, a disheveled figure appearing out of it.
“Can you stop screaming?” Uncle Shouta said, his voice perfectly flat, as if nothing had been out of the ordinary. “I was taking a nap.”
***
Good news! Izuku wasn’t the only one who could see the cracks!
Bad news: The other person had spent the last five years living completely alone and cut away from any human contact, moving around the house purely via the use of tunnels within the walls.
Even worse news: the cracks had been spreading for years now, ever since shortly after Izuku’s failed Gift ceremony.
The Worst News: He would need to make up with Kacchan to fix it.
***
“Are you sure you’re reading this correctly?” Izuku asked for the third time as he trailed behind Uncle Shouta through the tunnels. “Maybe you’ve misread something, and you actually meant that I had to make up with someone else, or that Kacchan had to talk to someone else and like, not explode flowers into their face, or-”
“I’m sure.” Uncle Shouta said simply, and did not follow up. The giant rat tangled inside his scarf turned to look at Izuku, nodding his head in enthusiastic agreement.
Izuku smiled carefully.
“But are you sure sure-”
“We’re here,” Uncle Shouta interrupted, relief clear in his voice. He pushed a couple pieces of wood aside, allowing a large painting to swing open. “Go.”
Sighing, Izuku clambered through the painting. It was the giant portrait of a white-haired man, his green eyes sparkling with joy. Many times Izuku had been told his eyes look just like Great Uncle Yoichi’s, and every time he saw this portrait, he couldn’t help but agree.
“But are you certain I have to-”
The portrait swung closer way faster than Izuku had been expecting it too, and yet it barely made any noise.
Taking a deep breath, Izuku straightened up and went up the stairs.
Nothing to do but try and talk to Kacchan. It was… Not ideal. He had been trying to make friends with his brother ever since they were babies, but Kacchan had never seemed much inclined to associate with Izuku.
Of course. Why would the Golden Child ever want to talk to someone who didn’t even have a Gift? No matter that their mother didn’t either, or that they shared most of their DNA.
Izuku was no one, in Kacchan’s eyes.
No matter. Izuku would give it his best shot. And then, once it failed -- and once he, hopefully, left Kacchan’s room in one piece -- he would go pester Uncle Shouta again. Surely there had to be a better solution to fix the cracks, right?
Like, and Izuku was just spitballing here, some crack solution?
He arrived at the doors way sooner than he would have liked to.
“Enter!” Came Kacchan’s curt command.
Taking one last deep breath, Izuku pushed the doors open. He immediately got overwhelmed by the gust of hot, humid air.
Kacchan’s room was one enormous greenhouse, housing hundreds of plants. His brother took pride in his green thumb, despite the fact he could have grown any of these plants at will.
Show off.
“Hiiiii,” Izuku tried with a wide, awkward smile.
“Deku,” Kacchan’s face immediately dropped into a frown, squeezing the watering can he was holding until his knuckles went white. Good thing he wasn’t holding a plant, or he would blame Izuku for its destruction. “What do you want?”
“Just wanna hang out with my big bro!” Izuku took a step closer. Normally, he would run away by now, or at the very least avoid antagonizing Kacchan further. Today, however, he had a mission. No matter how much he didn’t want to do it, he would try. “You know, it’s been a while since we last hung out.”
“We don’t.” Kacchan said flatly, moving back to his plants. He probably considered them better conversationalists than Izuku, too. “I have no desire to ‘hang out’ with you.”
…No need to sound that disgusted about it, honestly.
“Why not?” Izuku tilted his head. “We’re brothers, we should know each other better-”
“I have no time for something as useless as siblings!” Kacchan exploded, turning around with a huff. The watering can got thrown across the room with that motion, spilling water all over the floor.
Izuku couldn’t help the pout, nor could he help the tears gathering in his eyes. “But you go running with Ochako every day.”
“That’s different,” Kacchan shrugged. “It’s training.”
Unable to respond due to the tears clogging his throat, Izuku hunched his shoulders, hugging himself.
“Oh, for- Are you honestly going to cry about it?!” Kacchan yelled, getting closer to Izuku in just a few large strides. “Such a crybaby you are!”
He raised his hands -- to do what, Izuku had no idea -- but what happened…
There were no expectations. Well, maybe that Kacchan would push him away, or he’d try to throttle him (wouldn’t have been the first time, that dubious honor went to that one time when they were seven and Izuku thought Kacchan’s basil was available for cooking).
What happened instead-
In one moment, Izuku was staring at Kacchan’s bare palms. The very next, Izuku’s eyes closed on their own as his face and most of his neck got covered in-
Something.
Poking the mass gingerly, the only certain thing was that it was a plant-like organism.
Izuku was kind of starting to panic, and the fact the plant was covering both his nose and his mouth was not helping in the slightest.
Kacchan slapped his hand away, gathering the plant away from Izuku’s face. Izuku had no delusions regarding whose wellbeing was in question there.
“Incredible…” Kacchan whispered, staring at the plant in his arms as if it was the most wonderful thing in the entire universe. Izuku really wished Kacchan could spare like, a single percent of that love for his brother.
Maybe there wouldn’t be cracks in the wall, then.
Right, the cracks. He still had to make up with him… A single hug would suffice, right? Izuku highly suspected he might not survive this experience if two were needed.
“Sooo… Wanna hug to celebrate this?” Not his most elegant attempt, but then again, he was trying to hug Kacchan.
“It’s… different...” Kacchan whispered, turning the plant in his hands carefully. “If I can do this… Something completely new... What else can I do?.”
“I don’t know,” Izuku sighed, exasperated. “Can you fly?”
Kacchan glared at him briefly, before turning back to his hands.
“Hm,” he said, and that was the only warning Izuku got before Kacchan pointed his hands downwards, setting off a massive flower explosion which sent him flying.
Izuku regretted ever opening his mouth. Then again, Kacchan had him wrapped in a vine, which meant Izuku was taken along for the ride. That totally counted as a bonding trip, right?
***
Of course, all good things had to come to an end. Especially ones as unrealistic as Kacchan actually being civil to Izuku for once.
And, more often than not, they ended with Abuelo.
“Katsuki!” The man yelled, sounding scandalized as he saw the two of them soaring through the sky. “Get down here at once!”
Kacchan, of course, obliged immediately, trying to brush the pollen off of his clothes on the way down.
Izuku hadn’t made even a token effort to do so. After all, it didn’t really matter. Abuelo would find something to complain about no matter how Izuku looked.
Abuelo descended on them immediately, feather duster in hand, trying -- and badly failing to -- make Kacchan look slightly more presentable.
“Honestly!” He griped. “We have dinner with the Yaoyorozu’s today, and you decide to go roll in the dirt? You have to change before-”
“Katsuki~! Your girlfriend is here!” Came Himiko’s shout from the direction of the front doors.
“-they arrive,” all the steam seemed to have left Abuelo, his shoulders dropping slightly. “Well. At least go wash your face. Be back immediately, understand?”
“Yes, Abuelo,” Kacchan mumbled before powerwalking out of the room.
“Now, as for you,” Abuelo turned towards Izuku. “I know you might feel a bit… Jealous about not having a gift when all your siblings and cousins do-”
“I don’t, really!” Izuku protested.
“-but this doesn’t excuse this kind of behaviour!” Abuelo steamrolled right over his words. “You have to stop distracting everyone from their tasks!”
“I’m not!”
Abuelo pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t have time for this. Go help your mother set the table, I need to greet the guests.”
“But-”
“Go, Izuku,” Abuelo was already turning his back on Izuku. Like always. “We’ll have a nice, long talk after dinner.”
Izuku gulped. He knew how this kind of talks went. He was the only one to ever get them.
The only disappointment in the family.
He went to set the table.
***
Kacchan was expected to propose during dinner. He had a nice little box with a ring Abuelo took him to pick out last week and all.
Kacchan was expected to propose during dinner, but he was missing his cue.
Deliberately, pointedly ignoring Abuelo’s unsubtle coughs as he swirled his fork around on his plate. Izuku could see Yaoyorozu’s smile slowly freezing into a more and more fake-looking facsimile.
Eventually, Abuelo seemed to resort to the last thing he could do: starting an under-the-table kicking chain until Kacchan got the idea.
Glaring at Abuelo, Kacchan roughly pushed his chair away from the table, stomping over to Yaoyorozu’s side. It was very romantic and would be a memory cherished for years, Izuku was sure. (Yes, he was being sarcastic inside of his own head. What was he going to do, say it out-loud?)
He slowly got down to his knees. Izuku had to pinch himself to check if someone hadn’t suddenly manifested a time-aspect to their Gift.
“Yaoyorozu Momo,” Kacchan said, his expression wooden and tone as flat as the surface of a pond. “Will you do me the honour-”
If Izuku was in Yaoyorozu’s shoes, he would have said no just on principle. A second later, Kacchan gave her a much better reason to decline, exploding a bunch of flowers into her face just like he did to Izuku not even an hour earlier.
It was, of course, an accident. Yaoyorozu, reasonably upset about the entire thing, went home, her family asking to postpone the dinner.
Izuku was not looking forward to that talk with Abuelo, especially considering the glare the man was sending him. This was exactly what Izuku meant when he called KAcchan the golden child: he fucks up, and yet Izuku’s the one being glared at? Unfair.
He barely waited for the Yaoyorozus to leave. Abuelo didn’t even have the decency to wait until Izuku or anyone else got to their own rooms, ripping into him right out in the courtyard.
If he was being completely honest, Izuku didn’t really register a single word out of the tirade. He’s heard it all before. He was a disappointment, he was jealous, he would end up jeopardizing the future of his siblings and cousins alike, blah, blah, blah…
He entertained himself by watching the cracks in the walls grow and expand. Now would be a good time to point them out, wouldn’t it?
“I’m never going to be good enough for you, am I?” Was what came out of his mouth instead. “None of us are ever going to be good enough. Ochako’s never going to be strong enough. Kacchan’s never going to be perfect enough. You just keep holding us to this impossible standard, punishing us for falling short… But we were never going to be able to reach that level.”
Abuelo leveled him with a hard stare. “Now, Izuku-”
“No,” Izuku shook his head, the ground trembling under his feet. Maybe, if they couldn’t see the cracks… Maybe Izuku would need to escalate it. Just to make them realize. “This is why uncle Shouta left, you and the rest of the family, the rest of the village, everyone kept only seeing the worst-”
“Shouta didn’t care about this family-!”
“Shouta loves this family,” Izuku stressed, the present tense not going unnoticed. “He’s been trying to save us for the past several years! But you’ve never cared, did you?”
Abuelo drew himself to his full height. “You are way out of line, young man.”
“And you are destroying this family!”
The ground shook, the cracks turning into breaks, pieces of the ceiling falling down on them.
Screaming, his family started running out of the house, Izuku assisting as much as he could. He even grabben Abuelo when the man froze, staring at his brother’s burning portrait in shock.
Izuku left before the dust had even had a chance to settle.
He was… tired. Tired of always being the one at fault. Let someone else be the scapegoat in his absence.
“Not the best place to hide if you don’t want to be found,” came Uncle Shouta’s voice from behind him, the man not looking much worse for wear. Izuku supposed that would have been quite the achievement. “Your Abuelo is quite fond of this place.”
Izuku gathered enough energy to shrug.
“Hm,” Uncle Shouta walked closer, standing over Izuku’s shoulder as they both stared at the river. “This isn’t going to fix anything.”
“It’s not my job,” Izuku managed, his voice devoid of emotions. “I’m fifteen. I shouldn’t have to be the adult here.”
“No,” Abuelo called. “You shouldn’t.”
Izuku’s head whipped around, spotting the man at the edge of the forest. He could just barely see Uncle Shouta taking a step back, the rat in his scarf scuttering out of sight.
He let himself glare.
But the expected admonishment did not come.
Abuelo came closer, standing in line with Izuku and Uncle Shouta, eyes on the river.
“I… Apologize.” He said. “I was… So focused on my brother, so focused on using your gifts to carry on his legacy… I forgot what’s really important.”
His legacy?
“I never manifested a gift,” Abuelo continued, sighing deeply. “He, however, did. His gift of strength was what prompted him to stay behind, when we were supposed to leave.”
Glancing down at his hands, Abuelo’s voice grew choked. “It’s only thanks to him we survived. He should have… It shouldn’t have ended like that. If I had been stronger, he could have still…”
Izuku, never one to ignore a crying person (even if it wasn’t exactly best for him) leaned sideways, hugging Abuelo.
“Nothing’s stopping you from doing better now,” Uncle Shouta said.
Izuku glared at him, incredulous.
“What?” The man asked, spreading his arms. “I’m not wrong! He can still fix what he fucked up.”
“Shouta!” Abuelo called. “Mind your language, there’s a child present!”
Uncle Shouta raised an eyebrow. “And a single fuck is going to hurt him more than fifteen years of listening to you complaining about everything he did?”
Abuelo did not respond to that, teeth worrying his lip.
“Yes, and he’s said he’s sorry about it,” Izuku reminded. “So he’s going to do better now. Right?”
“Yes,” Abuelo nodded absently, before focusing on Izuku again. “I will. I won’t forget again. You’re what matters, Izuku; You, your siblings and your cousins, and my children, not your gifts or lack of them.”
Izuku lost himself in the hug. “Let’s go home,” he mumbled.
“We still need to rebuild it,” Uncle Shouta reminded helpfully. “Because somebody-”
“Could you stop ruining the moment for five minutes, Uncle?” Izuku groaned.
For the first time as far as Izuku could remember, Abuelo laughed.