Archive of Our Own

“And…snap!” Shouta calls out to Izuku, his voice echoing across the large ceilings of the training arena.

The underground hero watches with tired eyes, and sagging shoulders as his kid doesn’t snap the weapon in time and instead plummets fifty feet to the floor while curse words spill from the teen’s mouth. 

With a sigh, he pushes himself off the wall he was leaning on and walks over to the mat where the fourteen-year-old lands on his back in a heap with the breath knocked completely out of him. 

“You’re supposed to snap,” Shouta states in a bored tone as he leans over Izuku’s heaving form.

“ I know , dad,” he wheezes, rolling himself onto his side and up onto his hands and knees, “It’s hard to do all at once. You make it look so easy.”

“That’s because you’re thinking too hard,” the hero stuffs his hands in his pockets and nudges a socked foot in the kid’s side, “Stop thinking and let your instincts take over. You’ve already practiced the motions for the swing, that’s all ingrained into your muscle memory, now you just have to be able to use it in mid-air action.”

“Asking me to stop thinking is like asking me to stop breathing,” he lets out a breathy laugh while managing to push himself up to sit on his heels.

“And for that comment, I want one hundred snap and releases, on the ground only.”

Green eyes widen at him, “Dad—!”

“Two hundred.”

“Come on! ”

“Three hundred.”

Against his better judgment, Izuku gets up with a huff and pushes the thin black headband he has on farther back on his head, only partially successful in getting curls out of his face. Before walking to the other side of the area to complete his drills.

Shouta smirks as he goes back to his corner to observe the kid’s form.

The underground hero has been training Izuku endlessly and tirelessly for the UA entrance exam that’s coming up in a few months. 

Without a quirk, the kid will definitely be at a disadvantage against the other potential students. Shouta has made it his personal mission to make sure Izuku has a clear shot with the rest of the crowd.

Izuku first came to him soon after he turned thirteen asking if he could ever be a hero, even if he was quirkless. Shouta didn’t hesitate to tell him yes but did follow up the claim with the fact that the kid will have to work harder than everyone else. This didn’t deter the kid in the slightest, but not that the underground hero thought it would.

The statement seemed to light more of a fire in the kid's usually soft eyes. His normally bright, lip-bitten, smile was replaced with determined brows and a swift nod of understanding. Izuku’s whole demeanor screamed that he had something to prove.

And he does.

At that moment, the faded white scars around his kid’s mouth looked more prominent than they had in months. Shouta felt the same feeling of determination set in his body.

They immediately set up a training regime for Izuku, building up his strength and sharpening his spacial awareness. The kid already had a knack for being so observant, probably from all of the abuse he’s suffered. Shouta wanted to focus on honing those senses and upping his defense tactics. The green-haired boy had stated before that he was more interested in underground heroics, versus being in the limelight which was perfect for Shouta.

Once they felt the kid was up to physical par, the dark-haired adult passed down one of his favorite utensils as a hero — his capture weapon.

The last few months have been dedicated to training Izuku on manipulating and using it as he does. It’s by far the most taxing training that Shouta has put anyone through in a long time, not even his own heroics class has put in the hours and effort Izuku has. Then again, not many of his students have expressed interest in learning how it use it, they usually just question how he does it and move on.

The strategy that he’s teaching his kid now is how to swing from place to place with the scarf, much like a strange spider American hero that some people hyper-focus on. 

His method is: snap, swing and release.

Snapping the scarf to wrap around the next available post.

Swinging from the original position and closer to the next destination. 

Then releasing mid-air, and snapping the scarf to the next post while holding the momentum for the next swing.

Izuku has all of the movements down, the muscle memory for the snaps and releases but the kid can’t keep his momentum up to save his skin.

Hints why he fell fifty feet from the rafters.

And with his teasing backtalk to Shouta, he’s back to square one: doing groundwork and focusing on snapping and releasing until he can hold his own in the air. 

“Ah, Aizawa, I was hoping I’d be able to find you and Young Midoriya here,” he hears a voice beside him call, followed by the loud sound of the arena door closing.

Shouta lets out a loud groan, letting his new audience know he’s in no mood to deal with them.

“I know Aizawa, but I’m not here to cause any harm,” Yagi states sheepishly, moving to stand in the hero’s peripheral. 

“Then what the fuck are you here for,” Aizawa pinches the nose of his nose.

“If it’s alright with you, I’d like to talk with Young Midoriya,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Personally, it’s not alright with me but — Izuku! I said ground only!”

“Oh come on, dad!” The green-haired boy calls back with a whine from his new place in the rafters, “I’ve done that drill a million times, can’t I just try again?”

Goddamn it, Shouta only took his eyes off him for a split second—

“If you continue to complain, I’ll up your number!”

He hears an echoing scoff, meaning that his kid completely ignores his threat.

“Hold that thought Yagi,” Shouta pushes off the wall again to stand closer to where Izuku is about to swing from. 

As much as he’d love to be confident that the kid will succeed this time, he knows that his luck isn’t that forgiving.

He stuffs his hands in his pockets and waits for Izuku to take a breath before snapping the scarf around another rafter and jumping from his position.

“Snap!” Shouta shouts, watching as the fourteen-year-old manages to make a successful swing.

The underground hero has to hold in a laugh, tucking his chin into his weapon, as he sees the scarf snap too late, and Izuku is falling through the air again. 

“Shit!” The kid screams, his arms desperately flailing to grab onto something before colliding with the mat below. 

Shouta makes another trip to the training mat, rolling his eyes as Izuku has to catch his breath — again.

“That’ll be one hundred more, Problem Child,” Shouta hangs over him.

Izuku can only cough in response, rolling himself back on his side.

“That was quite the fall Young Midoriya,” Yagi comes rushing over, “Are you alright?”

“He’s fine,” Shouta snaps. 

“I’m fine,” the kid wheezes with a laugh, “it’s not the first time.” 

“Not the— Aizawa what in the world are you training him like this for? He could get hurt!” Yagi sputters.

“Yagi,” Izuku interjects sternly, pushing himself to a shaky stance and weakly reaching for Shouta, “I said I’m fine.”

Shouta takes the initiative and grips Izuku underneath his arms and holds him by the waist, “What are you even doing here?”

“Oh well,” the Number One Hero clears his throat awkwardly, “I wondered if I could speak to Young Midoriya.”

“It’s Aizawa,” Izuku almost growls, leaning more on Shouta for support; he must have fallen harder than the underground hero initially thought, “What do you want from me?”

“Well, I was actually hoping I could speak with you privately.”

Shouta does not like the sound of this at all.

“Huh, secretive as always,” Izuku scoffs and glances at Shouta, “Dad?”

“It’s really—”

“I mean—”

Yagi and Shouta start at the same time before cutting themselves off, dark black eyes meeting skittish blue ones.

“Oh was he—”

“He was talking to—”

The fourteen-year-old lets out a loud laugh, before hunching over and grabbing his stomach with a groan, “Sorry, it’s just—” he straightens himself back up and dips his head in the underground hero’s direction, “I was talking to my dad, Yagi.”

“Right, of course.”

Playful green eyes met Shouta’s dark ones, “It’s up to you Izuku.”

As much as Shouta doesn’t like the thought of his kid going somewhere alone with the dumb bastard that people call the Number One Hero, he isn’t going to let his worry shade over Izuku’s curiosity. Depending on how the conversation goes anyway, he will most likely come home laughing at whatever Yagi has to say and tell him and Hizashi.

“We can pick up more training tomorrow, you probably need to rest with all the falls you’ve taken today,” he continues.

Izuku smiles and nods enthusiastically, retracting his grip on Shouta to place his hands on his hips and crack his back.

“But don’t think I’ve forgotten how many reps you owe me now,” the tired man states, putting his hands back in his pockets. 

A whined, ‘dad!’ echos through the training arena.

“So, you’re training with Aizawa?” Yagi clears his throat as he and Izuku make their way across an intersection to the park on the other side.

“Yeah!” Izuku feels an excited bounce in his step that he can’t help, his arms swinging with enthusiasm, “He’s been training me a little over a year now.”

“What exactly are you training for?” There’s a nervous grit in the blond’s tone.

“The UA entrance exam that’s coming up in a few months,” and the boy can’t fight the smile that crosses his face.

He was floored to hear that his dad believed in him to become a hero, even if he was quirkless.

At the time, he hadn’t dared to call the man his dad until that moment when he asked. He had come home from hanging out with Kacchan for his birthday when they had run into some of their old classmates from Aldera. 

The group had immediately gotten in his face, yelling and calling him horribly ugly names for being the quirkless freak that got their school shut down. They got tried to get a hand on him, tugging the boy in different directions and activating their different quirks. 

The situation escalated quickly, and Kacchan could only do so much to protect him. He ran home with tears in his eyes, rips in his clothes, blood seeping down his body, and sobs on his lips.

He burst through their front door and collapsed on the floor begging for Shouta, only he wasn’t calling him Shouta as he had been previously. 

He called for his dad.  

He blubbered something about being a hero and the adult didn’t hesitate to tell him that he could be a hero, the best one there ever was. 

The next day, the two of them started putting together a training plan and Izuku didn’t call for the underground hero any other way.

“UA?” Yagi chokes on his words, bringing the boy back to the present.

“Yeah!” he exclaims once more, turning to skip backward to face the deflated hero as he continues talking.

“But…you’re quirkless.”

Izuku steps onto the sidewalks and stops his stride, his face going slack, “What about it?”

“That’s too dangerous for someone like you! Y–you could get hurt!” the sagging hero steps next to the fourteen-year-old.

Izuku frowns and feels his spirit deflate a little, “Oh, uh right…” he clears his throat and plasters a smile on his face, “Anyway, what did you want to talk about?”

“Actually, it’s along with the same topic,” Yagi smiles and resumes walking towards a bench.

Izuku takes a second to compose himself before following slowly behind. He watches as the worn-down hero shakily sits on a secluded bench and pats the seat next to him. 

The green-haired boy wearily joins him, even though his instincts are screaming at him to do otherwise. He can feel it in his gut that he isn’t going to like whatever the limelight hero has to say.

“Do you want to become a Pro Hero Young Midoriya?”

“Aizawa!” Izuku bluntly corrects.

“Right, of course, Young Aizawa,” Yagi stumbles over the name still.

“But yes, I want to be a hero,” Izuku lets himself gaze dreamily at the horizon, trying to let his desires overpower the anxiety he’s getting from his conversation, “Honestly, it’s all I’ve ever wanted in life.”

“Even though you don’t have a quirk?” Yagi tries again.

The twisting feeling in his gut skyrockets and Izuku almost feels sick as he turns his sharp green eyes to the man, “Why do you keep saying that?”

“I’m just trying to make sure you’re thinking realistically,” Yagi rushes out, his large hands waving frantically in front of his face. 

“Realistically?” Izuku bites, baring his teeth a little.

“Yes,” the man seems to droop like he’s the one who should be exhausted from the shit he’s spewing, “As I said before, it would be dangerous for you to become a hero. You would be more of a liability than anything else.”

The boy feels the air leave his lungs in a huff like he’s been dropped fifty feet from rafters onto floor mats. His jaw drops, there’s a scrunch in his brows and he feels his eyes well up with tears.

He doesn't think he can handle hearing this…and from All Might of all people. Someone that he looked up to as a kid, someone he idolized as a kid, someone he used to always want to be, someone he always hoped would walk through the front door of his mother’s apartment again. 

Someone he used to hope would be a real father to him.

“What’re you saying?” he chokes out.

“My boy, you cannot become a hero without a quirk.”

Izuku’s world comes crashing down and his whole sense of being shut completely off. He feels rooted to the bench, every single one of his limbs is as heavy as lead. He can do nothing but stare as he fights the urge to cry.

No.

No.

He can’t fall apart now.

He finally has the support he always dreamed of from his dad and papa. 

He finally has people that believe in him. 

He has people that want to protect him, raise him with love, and people that treat him like he isn't different. He has people that said he could do anything he set his mind to. That treats him like he isn’t a weakling. 

People that saved him.

So why does he feel like he’s suffocating from this feeling again?

Why is he still this easy to break after all this time?

“Well, do you have a better idea?” he snarls to the man, his brain lagging so far behind that those are the only words he can get out.

“A few,” Yagi taps his chin, ignorant to the child's distress, “Without a quirk, you could be a police officer if helping people is really your dream.”

A police officer?

Is Yagi fucking serious right now?

Izuku can’t believe the words he’s hearing.

Sure, the man is right. Being a police officer is still a way to help people, and that is what the boy dreams of doing — but it’s not the same. His dream isn’t just to help people, it's being a hero and saving people. 

To give people hope, to show them that there is always going to be someone there for them. That no one deserves to be left behind, that everyone is worthy of a hero. 

And if he were to do that as a quirkless hero…does Yagi even understand what that could do for society?

It could show other people that don’t have quirks, that being different isn’t a bad thing. There’s nothing weak about them, they are still human no matter what anyone else says. That they deserve the same exact treatment as others and not have to be reduced to a suicide statistic.

It would prove that there isn’t anything mentally, physically, biologically, or psychologically wrong with quirkless people. Show that they deserve the same amount of respect and dignity as everyone else. That they shouldn’t be bullied, muzzled, and thrown into a bomb shelter for things they can’t fucking control. 

It would show the rest of the population that being quirkless isn’t a bad thing and that it isn’t a disease. And that people shouldn’t be ostracized for it. 

“A police—” but his protest falls on deaf ears.

“But if you did have a quirk, maybe you could be a hero…” Yagi’s eyes are gleaming bright blue as if he said the most impressive and interesting sentence on the planet.

Izuku feels his brain reboot and freeze.

If he had a quirk…?

“What’re you saying?”

“I’m saying Young Midoriya—”

“Aizawa!”

“Young Aizawa, if I were able to transfer a quirk to you, you could be a hero.”

“That’s impossible, quirks are heredity not transferable.”

“What if I were to tell you that I could give you my quirk?”

“Give me…your quirk…?”

“Yes!” the blond hero turns to face Izuku head-on, his hands held tightly on his lap, “I can give you my powers, I can give you my quirk: One for All.”

“...One for All?”

At the sign of the green-haired boy’s confusion, Yagi launches into a story about this quirk. The fact that it’s been passed down for generations, getting stronger and stronger with each holder. But no one tells the true details of the quirk for fear of putting others in danger with the knowledge.  

Then he continues about having recently embarked on this journey to find the next potential wielder to take his place. To find the next greatest hero to pass his torch onto. Someone he can train to be his successor.

“And you, my boy,” he drops a heavy hand on Izuku’s shoulder, “In being my son, I wanted it to be you next. I want to pass this amazing opportunity to you.”

The silence that falls between the two of them is absolutely deafening. 

Izuku is too shocked to form words. How can a quirk like that exist? 

The boy almost hates how intriguing the topic sounds to him, what he would give to be able to analyze the logistics behind such a power. What kind of things would he find out if he were able to talk to everyone that wielded the quirk.

The fourteen-year-old shakes himself out of those thoughts; he can’t allow himself to get stuck on one aspect, such as analyzing, as he shoves his more concerning thoughts about the whole situation aside. 

He flicks his eyes up to Yagi and sees that he’s waiting not-so-patiently for the boy to answer his offer. 

“You would really give it to me?” Izuku starts cautiously. 

“In a heartbeat,” the man, in turn, smiles so widely at him, that the boy’s almost disgusted.

“But everyone already knows I’m quirkless, I would never be able to pull that off,” he feels himself making up every excuse to question the hero.

Yagi just shrugs, seemingly unbothered by the fact that Izuku would be defying every single aspect of his biology if he were to agree to this, “We would just subtly change your paperwork, I know some people that we could keep quiet.”

Green eyes widen in shock, “You expect me to lie? Just like that? What about dad and papa, or Kacchan?”

“Izuku—”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Aizawa, I cannot stress how important it is to keep this between me and you, you cannot tell Young Bakugou, and especially not Yamada or Aizawa.”

“I can’t just not tell my fucking parents, Yagi.”

“My boy—”

“Stop, stop, stop!” Izuku throws his hands down on the bench, “You don’t get to call me anything other than Aizawa, so cut the ‘my boy’ or ‘my son’ and this ‘Young Midoriya’ bull shit . On top of that, do you think you can just butter me by calling your son and offering me a quirk? How did you picture this going Yagi?”

“You need this quirk Aizawa, I’m trying to help you.”

“I don’t need your help. I haven’t needed your help in a long time. I’m training right now without a quirk, so why do you think I need your help now?”

“Well then you can take the power and actually get something out of the harsh training Aizawa is putting you through,” Izuku notices an aggressive bite making its way into the hero’s tone.

“I am getting something out of training! You are aware that the person I’m working with is not only one of the best underground heroes but also class 1-A’s fucking teacher right?”

The man doesn’t immediately answer, so Izuku presses on, “You expect me to, what? Say ‘fuck yeah I want super strength!’ And easily agree to not tell my parents?”

“Well, it manifests differently in each person—”

“Oh, so you’re saying I might not get super strength, but maybe laser eyes or something? And that’s worth my time how?!”

“I’m saying that if you’re going to be so persistent in your training, you might as well take it. You never know what it could do for you, maybe help you not fall fifty feet from the rafters!” Yagi’s tone has increased in volume, but there’s still an undertone of worry laced through it.

“Oh, so I’m going to sprout wings and be able to fly. Perfect then, I’ll take it and completely disregard everything I learned with Eraserhead in the last year,” Izuku stands from the bench, his fists clenched at his sides.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about Young Aizawa, so please stop this ridiculous nonsense,” Yagi follows suit in getting off the bench, “My quirk is not as simple as causing a mutation.”

“Oh right, do you need me to work on my pretty smile for the cameras? Maybe train my voice so I can properly scream ‘SMASH!’ every time I want to throw a punch?” the boy rolls his eyes, going to walk away, “I think we’re done here.”

As soon as Izuku turns his back, he collides with another body. Looking up, he sees that Yagi has taken on his full hero form and is now standing in front of him.

How had he changed directions so quickly?

“I didn’t realize that you would treat this topic so carelessly,” the large hero says through his smile, “This is not a situation to be taken lightly, so please understand that I mean you no harm and I only want what’s best for you, my boy. How about I show you some of the abilities you could possess if you had One for All.”

Without letting the boy get another word in, the now full-formed All Might takes Izuku by the waist — much to his panic — and launches the two of them into the air.

“Holy fuck!” the teen screams, having no choice but to grip onto the hero so he doesn’t fall to his death.

He hears the hero let out his iconic laugh as they soar through the air, the wind making it difficult for Izuku to hold his eyes open or shout words of protest. He’s not sure if he wants to do either anyway, the fast-paced landscape below them would make him lose his stomach, and opening his mouth would surely deliver a bug-flavored meal to him that he’d much rather pass on.

“Don’t you think it would be easier to not fall from rafters like this?” an excited voice booms, vibrating through Izuku’s chest. 

But the boy can’t respond to the hero’s teasing facts, he can’t catch his breath to do so.

The flying and falling sensation is making his stomach twist and turn painfully. His head is spinning and he has to bite down on his tongue to keep himself grounded.

This…

This is chaotic and fucking terrifying.

He feels no sense of direction, almost like the jump is just for show; to prove how powerful this quirk can be. There’s no precise landing point, just free falling through the air and scrambling to find a safe landing point.

It’s more of a move to get away from a situation than it is to get somewhere specific.  

This is a completely different feeling than when he’s swinging with his capture weapon. That is more calculated and controlled, needing to look for the next place to wrap the scarf and where he needs to land to get closer to whatever destination. 

The extensive training he’s been doing with his dad is more based on stealth, vigilance, and patience, something that sounds more comforting to Izuku. Being able to melt into the shadows, watching from hidden vantage points, and quietly investigating a scene — are all things that underground heroes excel in. 

Not that the boy never wished he could be a limelight hero, he always knew that Yagi was his biological father — his mother never hid that from him. It was easy to fall into step with everyone in saying that All Might was his favorite hero. The man was his father, how could he not idolize him to some degree?

But given all the cards he’s been dealt in life, it’s not something as obtainable. Without having a quirk, without having someone to train him from the beginning, Izuku knew he had a hard road ahead of him if he wanted to become a hero. He excepted that a long time ago and let go of that childish part of his dreams, researching and analyzing different methods of heroes before he landed on Eraserhead. 

Even before the man found him in Aldera, he had shifted his studying focus to Eraserhead. While other kids stood proud, with practiced smiles and a loud ‘I am here!’ Izuku was taking any information he could find on the underground hero.

It warmed his childish heart to see someone that was almost like him, fighting quirkless. Izuku decided a long time ago that he would go into underground heroic because of it. Having the man as a dad is something he never thought would have happened.

Plus, how else is he supposed to use the trauma of being locked in a bomb shelter for days, with hardly any food or water, a bucket that’s labeled as a toilet, and nothing but his mind to keep him company? Being isolated from his peers, only having one person as a true friend, learning how to live without his mother for months, and learning how to blend in with the crowd to get a simple bite to eat. 

If he isn’t built to be an underground hero then Izuku doesn't know what he’s built for. 

But this quirk usage. This is something different. This is what it takes to be a limelight hero. 

Don’t get him wrong, it’s powerful but it’s also flashy. And being in the spotlight is something that Izuku hasn’t wanted in a long time.

This is the kind of power it takes to have a bright smile, to have an aura that everything is fine, and give a feeling of security. This is a quirk that needs to be seen by the public, they need the reassurance that there is a person stronger than the villains lurking around. 

Society needs this quirk.

But Izuku doesn’t want it. 

“...Down,” he manages to choke out with a whimper, “Get down.”

Seconds later, All Might lands them gently on a random rooftop. Izuku can do nothing except let his grip on the hero fall and he collapses on the ground, meekly crawling away from the man.

The blond man clears his throat, finally sensing the child’s discomfort, and deflates to his smaller form.

“The possibilities this quirk can give you is endless Aizawa, it would guarantee your future as a hero. I can train you to wield it, to make it your own, and you would be the greatest hero of all time.”

Izuku slides himself further away from the man, propping himself up on the railing and taking a deep breath. His stomach still isn’t in the right spot, his head is still spinning and he’s fighting every urge to look at the ground. 

“I’ll ask you one more time,” he starts in a shaky voice, eyes closed, “Can I be a hero without a quirk?”

The silence that falls between the boy and the hero is thick. The teen doesn’t bother to open his eyes and see whatever expression the man has on his face. 

“No, my boy, you cannot be a hero without a quirk.”

Izuku finally raises his head, piercing green eyes finally making contact with dull blue ones, “Then I don’t want your quirk and I don’t want any training you have to offer.”

“Aizawa—”

“No Yagi,” he grabs the railing behind him, slowly pushing himself up, “I heard you out, so now it’s time to listen to me. I understand that you’re in a bind and you need to find someone to be your successor but it’s not me. I don’t feel comfortable taking something that powerful when the entrance exams are this close. So many people will question why I all of a sudden got a quirk. Let alone the fact that I would have to change my training, and how would I explain that to my dad? 

I’ve been doing fine on my own, I should say that I appreciate the offer, but I don’t and I’m not sorry for rejecting it. It is my choice overall, and I’m going to say no.”

Yagi’s shoulders drop and his face falls, a look of defeat that Izuku has never seen on the Number One Hero before.

“I understand,” without another word, he changes back into his full form and launches himself off the rooftop.

The teen collapses back onto the ground, his emotions and situation finally hitting him full force.

His biological father, the Number One Hero, doesn’t believe in him.

He’s angry that he’s this upset about the situation. He shouldn’t let it affect him this much — he’s training hard, has had other people tell him that he has a solid chance at becoming a hero, and he has father figures that support him to the earth’s end.

So why does he feel so dejected?

Why does he keep letting this one man dictate his life over and over? Why does he find himself searching for validation from someone he knows isn’t going to give it to him? Why does he let this one person run over his emotions constantly without showing any type of remorse?

Taking a final breath, he pushes himself to his feet again, wobbling over to the stairway exit. 

He just wants to go home.

He wants to sit on this couch with his dad and papa, cuddling with their cat as they talk about how ridiculous this offer was in the first place. Laugh about how much time this wasted when Izuku could have been training. Watch movies as he forgets the hurt and regret he feels.

Coming up on the stairwell door, he gives a weak pull but it doesn’t open. He swallows his panic and pulls harder, and yet the door still doesn’t open. 

His breath hitches and he whips his head around for another way off the building — a fire escape, anything — but there isn’t one. 

He stumbles back over to the railing and looks down. Cars and people look like ants in a maze as they both weave around traffic. Noises blaring up at him; shouts that are lost in the wind, and angry car horns that echo around the building stature. 

Izuku is hit with a different memory as he takes a step back.

Voices whisper in his head with words he’s fought his whole life. Words that tell him that he isn’t good enough, that his dreams are stupid, that he should just become another quirkless static, and that he should make everyone’s lives easier by ending his .

“No,” he whimpers, clamping his hands over his ears, “Please, no.”

He hasn’t had to fight this in so long. He hasn’t heard these words in so long. So why is it coming back now?

Why is the only thing Yagi is good for is: making Izuku’s life hell?

He sees flashes of spider lilies on his desk. Slurs that were carved into his notes and homework. Newspaper clippings of quirkless suicides slipped into his backpack and locker. Phantom pains from illegal quirk usage from his classmates.

The scars around his mouth begin to pulse and ache. 

He sees nights where he thought about doing what everyone suggested, taking his own life, and becoming static. Nights where he stood on the highest rooftop he could find close to his apartment, his shoes discarded, his backpack stuffed with notes to Kacchan and wishes for his mom. He could feel the wind ripping through his curly mess of hair, having his eyes closed and feeling so close to being free.

Those nights were the lightest he ever felt; no one spitting threatening remarks at him, the tension from his body seeping out into the air, and no dreading thoughts about going home to an empty house.

Those nights were the only time he felt in control of his own life. He could feel the world spinning around him, but only he was standing completely still. It gave him time to catch his breath and time to process his thoughts. 

Those nights were the only time he felt something other than numb and degraded. The feeling wasn’t quite happiness or relief, it was something that he couldn’t place but one that he chased.

Him being one breath away from ending the heavy burden of waking up every day. Getting rid of the awful thoughts that he’s plagued with. Of never having to deal with the other kid’s shit at school ever again, and finally getting away from the haunting feeling of his empty house.

Why didn’t he ever go through with it?

‘Because you’re weak,’ His mind spits.

“N-no, I-I’m not,” Izuku shouts to the wind, pulling at his hair, “I’ve gotten stronger.”

‘No, you’re not. You just turned down an opportunity to have a quirk, what the fuck does that make you.’

A sob breaks past his lip as he crumples to the ground.

He wants to go home.

Fighting the sluggish numbing of his body, Izuku digs his phone out of his pocket.

He needs help.

But he doesn’t want help, he wants to give in to the sinking feeling in his stomach. He wants to give in to the freedom he knows could be waiting for him on the other side. He wants the tense stress in his shoulders to fade away, the sweet release of his last breath as he sighs out his pain.

He doesn’t want to burden any more people with his quirklessness, with his uselessness . 

He knows he needs help.

He dials a number without thinking, knowing generally where the person is at the moment. Putting it on speaker, he drops the device in front of him and hunches over. Holding his middle, he rocks himself to keep him grounded.

“Bug?” the voice answers, confusion heavy in their tone, “Everything okay? You know I’m on patrol—”

“Papa!” Izuku sobs, cutting the man off, “Papa, please help me.”

“Izuku, what’s wrong? Where are you?”

“I-I don’t know. Please, I want to go home,” the teen digs the palms of his hands into his eyes, willing for his wish to come true. 

“Okay, baby. Can you tell me where you are? Aren’t you with Yagi?” Hizashi's voice softens as he continues to talk, there’s muffled dialog in the background that Izuku can’t make out.

“No— Yagi— I don’t know—”

“That’s okay, baby, I’ll find you. Just keep talking to me. What happened?”

“I wanna go home, Papa, please,” Izuku continues to rock himself, not wanting to talk about what he went through at the moment.

Hizashi fills the line with soft reassurances and words of encouragement as the sound of hollowing wind breaks through half of the one-sided conversation. 

One of Izuku’s favorite things is listening to the lulling power of Present Mic’s voice because it isn’t just good for yelling at villains. It’s been a huge staple in the teen’s life ever since he was saved from Aldera. 

At times when he would have nightmares and the man would hum and sing him back to sleep, or when he would stay up and tune into the hero’s radio show and focus on the soothing rumble of his ridiculous jokes. 

His papa’s voice was his favorite.

Izuku tries to focus on his breathing, forcing himself to remember the tactics that Hound Dog has engraved into his brain. 

In for four, hold for six, out for eight.

Focus on what’s around him. Things he can see, things he can feel, things he can smell. 

His mind is messing with him right now, he needs to be able to differentiate between what’s real and in front of him right now versus the lies his mind is feeding him. He’s not in any immediate danger, he knows he’s not going to go any closer to the edge than he would have three years ago.

He has his dad and papa supporting him now, he has Kacchan who would personally bring him back to life just to pummel him stupid if he tried anything. 

The teen doesn’t know how much time has passed before he hears his papa’s voice a little louder than it previously was, “Izuku? Bug? Are you with me?”

“I’m h-here,” he gasps.

His vision and mind are becoming more clear, and the cloud of negativity is slowly lifting knowing that he’s almost free. A different kind of freedom that he originally had been longing for.

“Where are you, baby?” 

“R-roof.”

“Shit, okay I’m almost there Bug. Stay with me, you’re doing so well.”

Izuku whimpers, curling into himself and pulling himself closer to his phone to get closer to his papa’s soft voice. 

Suddenly, the stairwell door bangs open and the green-haired boy can only weakly move his hand to where he sees the man dressed in his hero costume. 

He hears the faint beeping of his phone, indicating that their call has been disconnected as he watches Present Mic rush over to him.

“I’m here baby, we’re going to get you home alright?” A gentle hand runs through his curls and Izuku lets his eyes slip closed.

Hizashi panics are he realizes that the teen has lost consciousness. Forcing it down, he takes a breath and dials another number on his Bluetooth com. 

“Zashi? Aren’t you on patrol?” his husband’s tired voice grunts out.

“I have Izuku, I’m coming home,” Hizashi slides his arms underneath said boy and lifts him, trying to move him around so he can piggyback him. 

“Izuku? I thought he was with Yagi?” he hears the faint sound of a chair scraping on the floor and keys potentially jiggling.

“I’m not sure. He wasn’t able to give me details, but I found him alone on a rooftop close to my patrol route.”

“Excuse me?” Shouta grits back.

“I don’t know Shou, he’s currently unconscious and was in no state to answer any of my questions.”

“So where—?”

“Shou,” Hizashi cuts him off, successfully getting the teenager on his back and making his way back towards the stairs where his sidekick is waiting, “Come get us now. Questions later.”

“Right, okay. I’m on my way,” his Bluetooth deeps with the sound of a disconnected call, and the voice hero makes his way off the roof with his unconscious kid on his back. 

When Izuku finally opens his eyes, he noticed that he’s back at home in his living room, both of his parents standing across from him and speaking softly. 

His dad’s stance is anything less than happy, his arms are crossed over his chest and there’s a heavy frown on his face. His dark eyes stare unmoving at the blond in front of him, his stance is strong and demanding to be challenged. 

Papa on the other hand is gesturing wildly and speaking at a million miles an hour. His green eyes can’t seem to stay in one place, and his long hair is hanging around his shoulders and showing clear signs that it’s been pulled at.

Izuku sits up groggily and rubs his eyes. He’s still exhausted from the day, from training earlier that morning to his conversation with Yagi. Suddenly the boy is hit with the memories of what went down with the limelight hero, his breath hitches and he catches the attention of both adults in the room.

Papa rushes to his side, kneeling in front of him, “Hey Bug, how’re you feeling?”

At the man’s soft words, Izuku falls apart for the umpteenth time of the day. 

“Oh baby,” the blond hero moves himself onto the couch next to Izuku, carefully wrapping his arms around him. 

His dad on the other hand, still has himself positioned in front of them, arms still over his chest but it can be seen that his hands are in fists. If the green-haired boy didn’t know any different, he would think that his dad is mad at him.

“What happened Izuku?” there’s a bite in the underground hero’s words.

The questioned kid wipes his nose and drops his hands heavily on his lap, his gaze following. 

“Yagi offered me his quirk,” he states in a monotone voice.

He feels papa move away from him slightly, “Offered his quirk to you?”

“That’s not possible,” his dad is quick to add on.

“Not technically no. But apparently, his quirk is the exception.”

Izuku then dives into the whole story, from the berated comments about being quirkless beforehand, to how they ended up on a rooftop. No detail was left out, he doesn’t give a damn about the confidentially of the quirk; the entire interaction left a bad feeling in his stomach.

“So he left you on a fucking roof by yourself because you hurt his poor fucking feelings?” his dad’s jaw clenches and Izuku almost fears that he’s going to crack his teeth.

The boy lets his body fall limp from the emotional exhaustion of the day, and his papa catches him with ease.

“Shouta,” Hizashi starts in a gentle warning tone.

“Don’t ‘Shouta’ me Hizashi. Every single time Yagi comes around, he fucks something up. He may act like he’s trying to be a better adult figure, but he doesn’t know Izuku and it’s like he’s not trying to get to know him. Offering him a fucking quirk and telling him that he can’t be a hero without one? And proceeding to leave him alone on the roof, with no way down but to fucking jump—”

Izuku lets his body fall completely limp on his papa, his eyes slipping closed tiredly. The nauseating feeling is making a home in his stomach again, he swears he can feel the wind on his cheeks and all of the awful things that were said to him are being highlighted in his brain.

“Your point has been made Shouta, that is enough,” Hizashi sternly cuts in, startling both the underground hero and the boy.

Tension falls in the air of the room, neither of them really knows how to handle the different overwhelming emotions coursing in their veins.

The dark-haired man is the first to break the silence, with a classic exhausted sigh. His arms fall to his sides, and he rounds the room to join the other two on the couch.

“It’s nothing against you kid,” he drops a heavy hand into the green curls, “You have come so far in the last couple of years, hell even in the last few months. I have seen you grow more than I thought was originally possible.”

Izuku sniffles, turning to face his dad more as he continues, “Yagi’s actions and the things he says to you do not define who you are, or what you are capable of. You’re allowed to be upset for the distress he put you in today, fuck knows I am,” a small wet giggle is heard, “You don’t need a quirk for anything you want to accomplish. I know more than anyone that you have what it takes to be a hero. I will tell you as many times as you want to hear. We will keep training just the way we are and when you take the UA entrance exam, you’re going to show everyone what you’re made of. And it’s not going to be the shit Yagi tried to feed you today.”

The teen falls into his dad, wrapping his arms around the man’s shoulders and beginning another sob fest. 

It takes Shouta a few seconds to process the physical contact, but it’s not long before he rests his hands on the boy’s back and in his hair.

All his life, Izuku always wished for a quirk.

Wished that his classmates wouldn’t use him for violent target practice.

Wished that his teachers didn’t treat him like the scum of the Earth.

Wished he wasn’t always used as a pick-apart example when they started studying the biology of quirks.

Izuku always thought having a quirk was going to make his life easier. Maybe then people would have wanted to be friends with him. Maybe his teachers would have praised him more. He wouldn’t have been an easy target for the others.

He always felt like he was jealous of everyone. Everyone else had quirks. Everyone else was praised. Everyone else was listened to. Everyone else had been given a fair chance. Everyone else was put on a pedestal. 

All while he was left in an underground shelter for days.

But the teen has realized recently, that it hasn’t been a quirk he was wishing so hard for.

It wasn’t the quirks he coveted.

He coveted the undeniable acceptance everyone else had.

He had always been surrounded by people that were labeled as ‘normal,’ while he took the title of ‘Deku.’

A useless waste of space that had no reason to live.

A Deku deserved to be picked on, used for target practice, locked in an underground shelter, muzzled, laughed at, isolated.

That had been ingrained into Izuku’s brain. He didn’t know any other way to live.

That is, until Shouta and Hizashi.

They don’t show the same look of pity his mother used to give him when he came home bloodied and bruised. They don’t give him practiced smiles and monotone words. They don’t tiptoe around him because they’re worried Izuku will break down.

His parents reminded him how it feels to be loved, they didn’t leave him behind, they rescued him. 

They encourage him to speak up. They push him to train to be a hero. They give him wide smiles and loud laughs. They teach him to stand up for himself.

They don’t turn their backs because he doesn’t have a quirk. They think he’s stronger than anyone else because of that.

They give him confidence.

They gave him a home. 

They gave him a purpose.

And in sitting in both of their arms right now, he covets nothing.