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Izuku could feel the stretch of his arms as he hung loosely in the leather cuffs keeping him off of the floor. His knees were bloody from where he had been pushed onto the floor, and there was a small puddle of spit and blood under his head. The tip of his left incisor was a flash of white in the red. The blood dripping from the split lip, broken nose, and bitten tongue were congealing underneath him.
At least he was wearing his black and green trousers. Blood was a bitch to get out of that kind of cloth.
Izuku could barely feel his shoulders anymore. The stretch in his arms had pulled them far enough out of his comfort zone that it felt like they would pop out any moment. Adjusting slightly, the tinkling of the chain echoing through the room, Izuku contemplated how exactly he got there.
He had assumed that due to his crazy obsession with the quirkless that, Kai Chisiki would have been willing to converse with him, even help him. But he had been proven wrong by the welcome he had gotten into the warehouse where they had agreed to meet. He had gone there in good faith – the first time he had willingly met up with someone after his flight from the Commission – and he had been ensured that he would be met with the kindness that benefits a guest.
The broken teeth and jaw had told him a different story.
The famous quirkless runaway from UA. Obviously worth more alive than dead because he was still hanging in this dark, stinky room and did not have his throat cut with his body dumped into the nearby alleyway.
So, either the Yakuza was working with the Hero Commission now, or Izuku was in deep shit with some villains.
To Izuku’s estimation, it had been around 30 hours since he went into the warehouse, and he had not seen anyone. And that meant it was the third month anniversary of his status as a criminal runaway. Izuku wondered if he would have been treated better by the HPSC but doubted it. Even if he was committing fraud with his fake quirk – which he was, but that is beside the point – they had no reason to actually arrest him.
Or hound after him like they did when he got on the streets.
God, Izuku missed Shouto so much. He would have a ton of theories for why he was being mercilessly chased, even if it was something stupid as him being the son of the king of the underworld or something.
Thinking about Shouto made his chest tight, as well as thinking about his situation. He could do nothing now, and either Shouto knew or didn’t – and either hated him or stayed by him.
Izuku did not have much hope. The situation called for him to be realistic. Prepare for the worst and hope for the best – or whatever that saying was – if he were expecting to get hurt, it would only hurt less.
He was a quirkless Deku. And now, apparently, he was a quirkless villain Deku. So three for three.
Powerful, incredible, heroic Shouto did not deserve the stain Izuku would be on him. He did not deserve to be dragged into the mud.
The sound of slow footsteps interrupted his musings. He could always go back to thinking about how useless he was later. He hoped it was water but expected it to be some sort of question time, like Blues Clues but with more blood and fewer dogs.
Despite the situation, a dog would be welcome.
The door swung open, and Izuku caught a glimpse of the purple scarf and white gloves that told him that food was indeed off the menu. The menu was most likely being torn apart and then put back together. A sort of morbid a la carte, where the food was torture, and the drinks were more torture.
Ok, the menu metaphor was getting away from him.
“Akatani Mikumo,” the man said, standing above the kneeling teen, “or should I call you Izuku Midoriya? Another name, perhaps? Do you have a family name that I could call you? I like formality, you see.”
Izuku shook his hair, a little confused - his jaw ached as he subconsciously clenched his teeth together when Kai got eye level with him. The golden irises burrowed into his own verdant green ones. Izuku’s mind trailed about how that colour must have been a vestigial mutation.
After apparently finding what he had looked for, the man settled into a more comfortable crouch, looking away to fiddle with his gloves—pulling them off after a moment's consideration. Izuku found the colour coordination between the purple scarf, green jacket and white gloves rather garish. If anything, the movies lied about villains having a fashion sense.
“No matter, you truly don’t have a quirk, do you? Not a one. I wonder why your father was so careless in that. One last test, and then we can talk. Krono, take his shoes off. I want to check his tow joint.”
Looking up at the man, Izuku swallowed blood and tried to speak.
“Wouldn’t bother,” he started, bloody spittle clinging to the side of his mouth to the germaphobe disgust, “I cut them off before I got into UA. Hurt like a bitch that did. It was the only way I could get in.”
“Interesting,” Chisiki hummed, gloveless fingers ghosting over Izuku’s face – looking in wonder when his skin didn’t come up in hives, “I think I will still check, take his shoes – I don’t want him running. He is still worth lots to us even if he has a quirk.”
It took three days for Eraserhead to find him, and even then, that was after he had managed to escape for the man to find him. Luckily he got his shoes back as well.
He couldn’t do much for Izuku. Bandage him up, and get him some painkillers. He stayed for a week, enough to make Aizawa think he wasn’t a flight risk. Then when his jaw had healed enough that he could chew and speak with minimal pain, he left. Aizawa at least had the dignity to act surprised when he had come back to his house to find Izuku gone again.
He was watching from the next roof over, and watched the man slump over in disappointment, could see him curl into himself. Izuku was enough of a masochist to watch if the man was crying.
Izuku was lucky enough that he was distracted by finding the girl who had kept Izuku company when he was brought to the compound. If he couldn’t be a licenced hero, he would become a hero for the people.
It was always people like Eri who were left behind.
Izuku was happy to be in the wings when she was saved.
Izuku walked into the only shop that he knew stocked the right kind of energy bars that he needed and the only one that had a TV near the cashier area.
When Izuku timed it right, by going at around 9:45 at night to pick his purchases up, he would have about 20-25 minutes of being able to watch – or at least listen to the news – without being suspicious. More if it was that one person with the quirk that gave them painful-looking bulbs on their forehead.
Izuku never asked. It might have aroused suspicion. But he thought it might be something to do with their bones. The woman's teeth were a very pure white. But Izuku never liked to look long enough to warrant a proper hypothesis. Looking at a person often invites them to look back, and even with his hair dyed a mucky brown, he didn’t want that type of scrutiny.
It was a lucky find for someone on the run. Especially when it was high profile, which his case was. There always was mention of that Quirkless child, or that freak, or that liar. The devil that was born to corrupt the souls of the quirked children.
That day, as he was waiting in line for his snacks, which he took begrudgingly – his money was starting to wane. The group of two middle-aged men caught his attention.
They were chatting casually with the cashier, not the bone teeth lady, and were watching the news. This situation was often much better for Izuku. It gave him more time to simply watch the news and offered less suspicious reasons to do so. Yet this situation was different.
The men were talking to the man who seemed to be the manager of the store. He was bossy, rude, and entirely disregarding those younger than him and those different from him. He was also bitter, only in the way someone who had a perfect quirk and got nowhere in life was. If it was anyone who Izuku didn’t want to be found out by, it was someone like him.
The three watched the news closely. Disgust veiled poorly on their faces. It did not help his self-esteem to see that it was his face they were sneering up at.
“How audacious can you get. That little upstart really grinds my gears. Who does he think he is? He should have been glad not to be killed at birth.” The man spat at the floor, “Imagine having a quirkless son. I would sell him for parts. That would have been the only use for him.”
The other men behind the counter huffed in agreement. The man who had a similar disposition to the manager spoke up, packing away his cigarettes and whisky.
“Well, if he were a girl, there were always other uses for someone like that.”
It took Izuku a moment to think over the roaring in his head, don’t react, don’t draw attention to yourself. He knew he had been there too long just to drop the stuff and try somewhere else. It would have been far too suspicious.
“What was UA thinking letting him in? What are they going to let animals in from the zoo? HA. I knew UA was going down, but now it's awful in my estimation, first letting people in with villain quirks and then those villain attacks. I mean, it's not rocket science to see that the two are connected! My children won't be setting foot anywhere near that school, let me tell you.”
“Well yeah, I guess. Anyway, if the commission and heroes truly know what’s good for them, then they’ll round up all the quirkless and kill them, the best way to preserve the sanctity of society right. That kid will cause riots, let me tell you this. The longer he's not caught, the more he will give the others of his kind the stupidity to act.”
At that final cut off, the register dinging as the manager finally rang up the men’s things, Izuku realised something. They were scared. They were scared of him. They were scared about what he could do and how he could change things.
“Kid, hurry the fuck up.”
His smile was too drenched in the horror of the conversation as he paid for his food, and his eyes caught on the TV for just a second too long, his face drawn into a frown. Yet a couple of days later, when the shock of the comments wore off, Izuku pondered over the encounter.
In some ways, it was nice to be feared.
It was times like these when Izuku really wished he had a quirk.
This stupid serial killer has a weak wish-based copy quirk. They drew strength from the despair of not having a particular quirk, plucking from his victim's minds the quirk they desire most and then killing them with it.
It was no wonder the only people he had killed were the quirkless and people with weak quirks.
And for a boy like Izuku, someone who dreamed and analysed quirks, it was most possibly the worst matchup possible.
It had started as attraction. Izuku had started to think about his mother again. It was her birthday that day, and Izuku had been skulking around the streets. Not even looking for trouble, and certainly not in any vigilante gear.
The guy had dragged him into the alley way and had slammed him into the wall. Now that he was there, Izuku with his inability to turn off the analysis in his mind had thought that Kirishima’s quirk would have been very useful to prevent the knife in the man’s hand from going into in his shoulder.
Then a solid-stone fist slammed into his stomach.
It was here where Izuku started to panic. He had heard of the man who could steal quirks and could use them for himself. He didn’t really question the fact that he was dragged into an alley way and the man had a knife and definatly didn’t look like a criminal boogieman.
Gasping for breath Izuku waited for the man to try and strike for him to attack him back, but his fortifying breath was interrupted by a intrigued noise. Izuku, bracing himself against the wall, stood arms wrapped around his middle watching the man look confused at the holes in his palms.
“Not met someone who wished for multiple quirks before, I kind of like it – this quirk feels powerful, never had anything like it. It’s like I’m empty just ready to fill up, it’s a shame you’re a abnormality and don’t have a quirk. Hey kid got any other quirks that would work. Any other desires? Come on this is so fun!”
Izuku’s thoughts flashed to Hitoshi, the curse of a quirkless quirk analysis, as the man groaned at the mental pressure of a quirk. Not wanting to try his luck Izuku dashed to the entrance of the alley, taking advantage of the moment of inaction.
How those men in the shop were scared of him the same way they were scared of someone like this man, Izuku did not know. The thought sent him stumbling – the alleyway far too long, and he had been dragged far too far away from the street, for his comfort. The fear was starting to catch up with him now.
Izuku’s leg buckled when the knife that he had forgotten about sliced the side of his leg. If anything about the killer, Izuku had to admire his knife skills. His unpredictable quirk had left open some combat options that he had obviously filled. And had filled skilfully.
All Izuku wanted to do right now was to curl into the heat of Shouto’s side.
The alley heated and cool unpredictably as Izuku realised his stupid brain had started to think about his boyfriend. A boyfriend with a purposefully bred quirk to match the likes of Al-. Izuku stopped his thoughts before he could even think of the number one. He would rather not change the weather and be killed by one punch.
Why did he have to be born with such a desire for quirks. It was an ignored burning in his mind that he constantly felt as he looked at quirks. But even forgotten was not abandoned, and he still wished for one desperately.
This just proved that he couldn’t be a hero without a quirk. If he had the power to help people, why was he not even helping himself. His weakness, his quirklessness was killing him. What he thought was his strength, the one thing that he had lauded himself on, was killing him. What use was analysis when it was giving his opponent a strength.
The alley way made him think of Stain, and it wasn’t too much of a surprise to shudder into paralysis as the serial killer stood over him.
“This was fun kid. Never had a victim who activated my quirk so well. The activation is kind of a weird one. The victim has to know the quirk – even a little, has to know its activations, and has to have met the persons who quirk they want. Most people want quirks, yeah,” he pulled Izuku’s head up by his hair to stare into his eyes, “you, I’ve seen you. Lying to get into UA. That smells of desperation, and a quirkless boy who is so intelligent he could fool the whole hero gaffers that he has an analysis quirk. I just knew I had to meet you. This was as fun as I thought it would be. I think I’ll let you live, hopefully I’ll see you again. Maybe next time I’ll kill you maybe I won’t. Not like you can stop it. Quirkless freak.”
He stepped away, the words echoing in his mind as he lay in his own blood and the filth of the alley. He would only have to wait for minutes. But there was a pounding in his body and a distance in his mind that felt like blood loss.
There was something in that monologue that struck a cord in his mind. He had to have met them to have him use their quirk. When has he met a man with holes in his hand, or when had he met someone who could take quirks? Eraserhead could only block them.
His vision tunnelled to black, quirkless freak echoing in his mind as black boots filled his vision, how could he be a hero if he failed to save himself. He was barely helping anyone, how could he call himself a hero – even a vigilante – if he couldn’t even save himself. The man had taken a twisted version of pity on him, its always that. Pity or disgust.
Izuku was so sick of the pity, the disgust he could fight – he was fighting. Pity wasn’t something that changing the society could fix. People pitied him like they pitied a dog left out in the rain, like it wasn’t their problem.
The normally stoic face of Eraserhead flashing in his vision filled with terror before the tunnel ended and he fell into unconsciousness. Terror – that was a new one.
He woke up to the dark interior of the guest bedroom at the Aizawa/Yamada household. Eraserhead asleep on the chair next to the bed, his capture weapon suspiciously absent.
Which became less absent when Izuku tried to stand. His leg, bandaged with bandages as well as the capture weapon, was tied to the bed post.
“I didn’t want you to leave again. You’re always running away.” Aizawa sighed, ruffling his own hair in a show of exhaustion, “I didn’t want you to leave us. I can help you.”
Izuku turned to Aizawa. Slouching in the chair with his eyes open and his hands wrapped together. His fingers tightening together in a rare show of emotion. Izuku couldn’t quite figure out what emotion. He hoped it wasn’t anger.
“Sorry, I don’t want to burden you.”
Izuku said plainly.
“Can you stay?” A stare. “I just want to help you Izuku.”
“There is no helping me. The commission won’t allow it. I can’t even change anything because I don’t know anything.”
The man’s face shifted slightly. Ah so he knew.
“Why? What have I done? Do they hate quirklessness so much?”
“No, Atak- Izuku. No, that was probably part of it. All I know, all Nedzu has told me was it had something to do with your father.”
His father? He hasn’t seen his father in years. Hadn’t talked to him since his mother had cut contact with him. That was a couple of years ago at this point. Even if the bills were still paid by the man, his mother had stopped all forms of conversation about and with him.
Sensing Izuku’s rising confusion he nodded and spoke again.
“He was a villain. A villain to do with All-Might. The commission told us that they have been monitoring you to ensure that you don’t follow in his footsteps, and somehow you faking a quirk and joining a heroics school is evidence of this.” Aizawa says, his face and voice scathingly disgusted. A deeper scowl then normal gracing his normally still features. Carving a furrow deep between his eyebrows.
What he didn’t say, which was painfully obvious on his face, was that he had thought that Izuku was a spy for said father. Especially because All Might had started working at UA. Who else might know of his injur-
His injury. Izuku had made it his obsession to know everything about All-Might. His strengths, his shampoo brand, his villains.
None of the villains, in any of the fights, that had ever been broadcasted, was his father. Dead, alive, missing, escaped, not a single one was related to him.
The only one he could think of was that one who had injured him.
Thinking back to his time in the Yakuza, they had made it obvious that they were both disappointed and pleased that he didn’t have a quirk. That it was careless of his father to not have given him one.
He still could not think of who had a quirk like the one the man in the alley had. His father had a fire breathing quirk.
Doubt, a villain with that quirk could have been powerful and flashy, and all over the news.
And why would the commission hound after the son of an imprisoned villain. One who didn’t seem to even leave a hint of fear into the populace. Especially because All Might thought the man was dead.
Especially as his son was quirkless.
He slipped away from Eraserhead a month later.
Riots started while Izuku had been healing. Natsuo Todoroki had spoken out in support of Izuku Midoriya.
While also coming out as Quirkless too. Asking the populace why it was alright for the son of the number 2 could fake a quirk when others could not.
The riots were the actions of the people who were most noticeably, known for being quirk elitist. The violence started when Endeavour had arrived on scene.
It was later that week, his leg still weak and having dipped from the city surrounding UA, that he ran into a known member of the League of Villains.
It was rather pleasant experience. Kurogiri was a lovely man. Even so Izuku had to question how he had known Izuku’s favourite snack was a lychee mochi. A snack that he shared a love for with his father.
It was also jarring to pass out suddenly and wake in a hotel, room already paid for. Izuku did not even perceive dropping, or even feeling funny. Strange that he wasn't taken somewhere to be sold to the commission, or to try and be recruited.
He guesses that was what he got for taking food from a villain.
He bolted to the next prefecture immediately, not stopping to consider why his leg suddenly seemed so much better than it had before.
It was concerning to Izuku, as he started to notice that more and more league of villain members had started to follow him, that he did not know when they had started to follow him.
They were nice. They were always nice.
It was the heroes (not Eraserhead, nor Present Mic, nor any UA staff) who were not nice.
More often then not it was villains who were saving him. Not from heroes or injuries, or anything like that. It was just sometimes Izuku would stare too long at the edge of a building. It had often gotten around that he was skittish and now wouldn’t accept food from them.
But more often then not he would find notes, and bills stuffed into random pockets. He once found a pocket full of marbles that magically turned into a bottle of (unopened and still sealed) water, a can of (unopened and still sealed) green tea, a selection of (obviously stolen and still in the store packaging) mochi.
Holing away in his little den of stolen blankets and other bits and bobs, Izuku thought that it was probably safe to try them. It was not like they would give him the food and drink if they wanted him dead.
They wouldn’t need to try that hard, he was just a quirkless freak after all.
The one that he saw, and spoke to, the most was the burnt one they called Dabi. Izuku liked the tales he regaled Izuku with. About his time with the commission. About a certain hero – whose file burned a hole in Izuku’s pocket. He still hasn’t done anything about all that data that Nedzu has created for him.
The thing that Izuku liked the most about Dabi was his eyes. They looked so much like Shouto’s eyes. They felt safe. In certain lights Izuku swore he could see red hair peeking from under the black dyed cap.
“Thanks kid, I just got to ask kid, why did you even wanna be a hero in the first place? Don’t look at me like that I’m not being quirkest, Sir Nighteye is quirkless for most of the time yet there he is. And don’t you have a higher IQ then most intelligence heroes anyway? Off tangent, I know. I just,” Dabi shrugged, taking another tissue from Izuku to stem his bleeding nose, “never saw the appeal for being a hero.”
Izuku looked at him. All the old reasons why Izuku wanted to be a hero now were obsolete. He wanted to help people – he was doing that, he wanted to bring light to quirklessness and the way people with ‘bad’ quirks were treated – he was doing that by successfully evading the government. Izuku didn’t understand how he used to believe how he could change things from the inside when being outside a situation gave perspective.
Izuku was not restrained by the laws and ethics of heroism. It was the reason why he couldn’t stay with Aizawa. Izuku understood that the morality of heroism has been warped so badly that to be in heroics was to be corrupted by it.
Underground heroics to a lesser extent. But even having Underground heroics begets its own issues.
Izuku realised he had been silent for a couple of minutes before he spoke again, slumping from where he sat next to Dabi into the warmth he produced.
“Is that because you’re an undiagnosed sociopath or because Endeavour is your father?”
Dabi looked at him for a moment before sighing, “both I guess? I think one came from the other but I could not tell you which was the chicken and which was the egg, ya know?”
“Yeah, I guess. I kinda like him. If only for what he did to those quirkest rioters. No other hero was doing it. But now I don’t know whether the campaign is doomed from the start.”
“I hate to break it to you hero,” Dabi’s hand landed hard on his shoulder, “but I really don’t think as it is, it was ever more then embers. Natsuo was the flint, but the wood was wet. Something needs to change, for change to be needed.”
Izuku smiled sadly, “You know what, you almost sounded clever there.”
“I don’t know what to do. I wished,” he cut himself off, “I guess I wished that I didn’t need to do anything.”
Izuku Midoriya, also known as Akatani Mikumo – the UA thief – was spotted leading the Quirkless Riot standing beside Natsuo Todoroki.
While the so called ‘Quirkless Riot’ was peaceful, with a heavy presence of heroes – including the seemingly newly tolerant Endeavour, can the presence of a known criminal, who is renown for evading capture, vigilantism – which by definition is the misuse of a quirk in defense of or in opposition too a hostile force – as well as being the only quirkless person to walk the halls of UA. His iconic green hair on display for the event.
It is entirely too ironic, for a ‘woke’ reader, that the so called Riot itself was entirely peaceful. Then again who would want to go against the number 2 hero, as well as a whole poletjra of other heroes there as well. With the most notable inclusions being the entire staff of UA, standing beside Midoriya in support.
The one arrest that day, not being the renown criminal/villain/vigilante, but a man who had spat on the offerings that were laid for the quirkless people who had committed suicide this year. Natsuo Todoroki, who had taken it upon himself to stand up to a man, was offered only a punch in return.
Being one of the only known member of the quirkless community to have justice served for an abusive stance against them.
Is this the perfect example of the dichotomy of the quirkless? Does this give their plight meaning or will it cause to alienate everyone? Will this small, but obviously very loud, group help the plight of those who don’t have power. Both literally and metaphorically. Will it help the 30% of quirkless people under 18 who die or go missing under suspicious circumstances, will it help the 60% of quirkless made businesses who get destroyed due to marauders.
Will it help the people who can’t help themselves? Izuku Midoriya has asked us to change for the better, will we stand to his challenge, or will we fall to his expectations?
People cannot understand what is different to them, so they do not even try.
Izuku had tried to help six people on the 6 month anniversary of being labelled a criminal. Out of them, he was recognised by four of them. The first was a young woman who was wearing a local university jumper. He took knocked out the man crowding her and got her to safety, she thanked him and ran off. The heroes on patrol at that hour were either: daylight heroes who were about to end their shift or young newly debuted heroes not yet experienced.
The second one was a lovely old lady. She wasn't from the best area of town and Izuku noticed several large men following her - he walked her home and she gave him a kiss on the cheek and a tearful thank you, as well as some leftovers that she pushed into his hands. Izuku wasn't sure if the thanks were for helping or for something else.
The third and four times were not surprisingly, much like the first time, and it was only through the timely group of B and A-class villains swarming the heroes that Izuku managed to getaway.
Dabi was shadowing him again. It perhaps made sense considering what he had been doing recently. Protecting the people from the riot, intimidating people who needed to be intimidated. It was simple work, nothing close to how he wanted to, as a hero. As well as the fact that he was getting more and more recognised both in gear and out of it, with about 60% of people he tries to help attacking him after in some warped sense of heroism, often leaving the person who had attacked them to go free.
They wondered around the city for a few hours, it wasn’t like either of them had anything to do, Dabi following him like a shadow. When he stepped into a public toilet to re-dye his hair black, he stepped in and took over. His quick hands blying his own dyed red hair.
“Have you spoken to him? To Shouto I mean.” Dabi asked, his burnt hands gloved as he lathered on the dye. “I can’t imagine that he would have been too happy that you were in cahoots with Natsuo and you didn’t invite him to the party.”
“I wasn’t” Izuku started quickly, wiping away at the dye on his forehead smudging it in with stained hands, “I wasn’t in cahoots with Natsuo, I was planning on staying a low profile that day. But he found me and convinced me to go up with him.”
Dabi hummed, hands stilling for a few moments to apply more of the dye.
“Sure, right because our last conversation really made me believe that you would do nothing. Whatever, you still haven’t answered my question. Shouto? You know, tall, split hair, your boyfriend? Ringing any bells?”
“I’m sorry, have you?” Izuku asked bitterly, hissing when Dabi pulled his hair tightly.
“He wouldn’t care that your quirkless Izuku. He is not Endeavour. Especially because he saw Endeavour act the way he did around Natsuo when we were younger. Don’t be fooled by his actions now. He is still the same man who brought mother and bred her like some prize mare.” He sighed, fingers rubbing deeply in to the strands of Izuku’s hair, “But not Shouto, he would never think that.”
“But,” Izuku throat strained to get out his words, “what am I meant to do? I can’t endanger him like that, I can’t pull him into this life.”
“No, that’s not it. Your scared, you are, aren’t you, you’re scared about how he will react to you running away and not telling him.” The sullen silence that fell told Dabi – sometimes Touya, but only with Izuku – who had three younger siblings all he needed to know, “Yeah, he’s going to be pissed that you dipped on him. But if he’s still the stubborn little shit head that I knew when we were kids then he’s gonna think the sun shines out your arse, and that your words are butterflies and rainbows.”
Thinking about how to say this, he said it carefully, “what I’m trying to say, is that he loves you. And his biggest weakness, is that he will trust those that he loved unconditionally. Just be warned that he will not be letting you go.”
“Hey, I know those shoes.” The twilight atmosphere shot by a burst of pressure, Izuku really just wanted to collapse in the place he had been holed up in. “Those are those fucking red quirkless shoes. That quirkless riot was full of them.”
“Yeah! I remember those. Still got them in my wardrobe from that girl we saw last time.”
Izuku tried to walk faster, pulling his hood further over his face. He was glad he had dyed his hair black. Again, he had been caught short without his gear on.
“Hey kid! Fucking stop we just want to talk.” The boys jeered.
“Yeah! Wait up! Just wanna chat.”
Izuku sped up as he heard them scramble after him, jeering from behind him. Why did his shoes have to be so bright? And why did he insist on keeping his red ones, it’s not like he had the pinkie joint that meant he would need the shoes.
“Ok if you’re not going to listen to us, you useless dumb freak, then I guess we’re gonna have to stop you. It’s a heroes job after all to make sure that all villains are beaten up, and you look just so sketchy.”
Time stretched, his feet didn’t land on the floor when he wanted too. It sounded like paranoia to assume that everyone, and all the gods, were out to get him but it really did feel like that at some points. A fucking time dilation quirk. Izuku could see how fast everything else around him was moving. The group of three teenagers, probably third year of high school, stood in front of him, and he could feel one of them behind him as well.
Two of them were boys, tall – broad shouldered as well. The biggest looked like a second coming of Endeavour – bright burning hair making his face glow an eerie orange in the dying light of twilight. They were watching him, as he was watching them, a sick sort of enjoyment on their faces. The lankier of the two boys had gotten his phone out and was filming.
His phone case held a popular anti-quirkless symbol. The camera flashed, blinding Izuku.
Then the large one struck him in the face.
“Take his shoes.”
“Stop,” Izuku grunted out, his movement given back to him in real speed again. “Get off of m-” The one who had punched him did it again, once, twice and three times. Izuku could feel when his broken jaw start to twinge, .
He felt the hands on his shoes and he started thrashing, the large teenager who had hit him, o seemingly had fire type quirk if looking at the smoldering hair, grabbed his face – unlodging the hood from his head – and slammed his head into the ground. Before sitting on him, his hand pushing his face into the gravel of the pavement.
“What the fuck. Where the fuck are his pinky toes. What the actual fuck. Ay kid where the fuck are your toes? Ay Kani-kun let his face go for a second yeah.”
The face that pushed its way into his line of vision was blurry, and so too were the two other people standing behind him watching. His hand moved forward, and he poked at Izuku’s nose, making his hiss and wince in pain. Laughing, his eyes narrow in consideration. He reached out and gripped Izuku’s hair, pulling it straight.
Blinding white filled his vision, as the tall boys pupils shone out a beam of searing light. Izuku’s eyes involuntarily fluttered shut in the beam, only opening again when it shut off as abruptly. Blinking the spots away as the darkening sky greeted him, Izuku no longer saw the considering look on the boys face.
No, now it was scarier then that.
“Hey Kani, keep him still. Yui, you know what that freak UA dropout’s hair looked like right?” Izuku stopped breathing as the weight of the situation landed. “Hey Sho, I think you might be on to something. Kid just froze, look he’s tearing up.”
Hyperventilating, Izuku started to thrash and scratch at the boy who was sitting on his midsection. The tall boy, who had his shoes hanging by their string around his neck, had his phone against his ear. It sounded like he was talking to the police.
“Get off me, get off me, get off me. GET FUCKING OFF OF ME!”
The boy tried to grab at Izuku’s wrists with one hand, the other trying to reach for his throat. Quick as he could Izuku went to punch him in throat. But the other two people who had been part of the gang, one girl with dyed layers of hair – quirk – and one with an hour glass in her forehead – quirk. Started to grab his arms, one of them taking their tie off and wrapping it around his mouth to stop him from screaming. Pinning them to the floor on either side of his head.
The smoldering hair boy pressed his hand against his throat. The girl with the time quirk quickly tying his arms together with her tie and yanking them above his head. The hands of the other girl were moving in his hair, pulling at his strands.
“Stop fucking moving, you useless underdeveloped dog, or I swear to god I will burn your head off. The heroes don’t mind if your dead, dead weight. So stop moving, and I might consider letting you leave here with a voice box.”
Whimpering Izuku fell still. They were kids. They would kill him, just for being quirkless. How would he change this. How could he change this. In their eyes he was the issue. With only the time dilation quirk standing out, the rest of the quirks were weak, they were fucking useless. With quirks barely strong enough for heroic. Yet Izuku had noticed the heroic school badge on their uniforms.
They were in a hero school, three of them studying for heroics
How would heroes do this, how could they do this to anyone.
Izuku was doing nothing, and they attacked him, made it seem they had attacked other quirkless people. What were the heroes teaching them? To protect civilians from people like them. To serve the ordinary people and help them just live.
Nothing. They were teaching them nothing, and these kids would grow up and be the very thing they fear. They would be villains. They are villains.
This situation was all a mirror society, where the villains wore capes and the villains just wanted to protect their families.
Izuku was sobbing now, the weight of the three – probably third year students, crushing his ribs. Every time he shifted or tried to get some breathing room the band of heat around his neck grew hotter and hotter. After one particularly powerful sob the boy on the phone snapped at them to shut him up.
Throwing their weight over him they turned him onto his stomach, pulling his hands behind his back and tying them together, as well as stuffing their tie in his mouth, before jamming his face against the floor.
How was this the society where he could thrive. There would be no change. There would be no future in this society how it is. But with how things were going Izuku would not have the opportunity to change it. He would rot, and his dreams would decay, and his life would decompose to fertilize the hopes and dreams of people who think that punching a child so hard in the face that they re-broke their jaw was funny.
The only change was to break the society so fundamentally that no one in this mind set could thrive. The only route to change was to make this mindset deadly, why should some one who was different or someone who had a bad or weird quirk live in fear of those with heroic quirks.
Why were people like Katsuki Bakugou lauded for a violent nature and one mutation where Izuku was crushed for the lack of.
His hands clenched, as the shorter boy got off the phone. “Did you hear that, Izuku. Your getting a nice escort to Tartarus for all the trouble you’ve caused us good citizens. I hope the-”
He cut off as the sounds of the police car grew lounder. With a noise like he was choking on something, there was an oppressive weight that settled onto the alley. The large boy, who was still holding his head on the floor, slackened in shock – releasing Izuku’s head from the floor. Izuku looked up and saw the familiar sight of black fog filling the street. The clicking sound of well made shoes on the floor echoed loudly above the din of the police cars, and the push and pull of breathing apparatus filled the air.
“I would ask you politely to get off my son. But since I don’t think you treated him with the same courtesy in any of this. I won’t even be giving you a warning.”
Red mist filled the air, as Izuku was lifted gently into strong arms. Burrowing into the arm, as the sirens grew in volume. Izuku wanted to imagine that he had heard the sound of the capture scarf as well, but Eraserhead didn’t patrol around here.
Red and blue filled the street as the black smoke vanished. The police only found the blood that was coating the walls and floors.
And the pro hero Eraserhead already at the scene.