Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Life was full of 50/50 chances. 

That was a fact. Something Izuku had a hard time coming to terms with. 

It was annoying to tell you the truth. To know that no matter how you felt, a 50/50 chance wasn’t going to help you. 

It was a percentage Izuku genuinely despised. 

The reason? It was a hopeless outcome. 

Even with a 51/49 chance, you had hope. Part of your mind is skewed, putting your hope into the larger number, despite knowing what the odds truly were. 

With 50/50 though, you weren’t granted that glimmer of hope. You weren’t given something to believe in. 

And because of that, Izuku did his best to avoid 50/50 situations. 

If he didn’t know exactly what was going to happen, that was fine, livable. But truly, the stress of being forced to not know either way how things would end up hurt so much worse. 

Of course, his passionate feelings about the matter could be because he himself was a ruined 50/50 chance. 

He knew everything about him was considered a failed experiment. Something gone in the opposite direction he’d been expected to go. 

Silly genetics playing their part. How dare they. 

As cliche as it felt, Izuku’s life changed by a simple doctor’s visit, one that ruined the illusion of the 50/50 chance he’d been held against. 

“Okay buddy, I want you to follow my finger with your eyes.” 

They were in the doctor’s office for his fifth birthday. 

Izuku was well aware that he was behind his peers. Afterall, his mother and teachers and classmates made sure to remind him everyday. Everyone’s quirk had shown up before him and his mother had been in a constant state of worry this past year. Her bouts of anxiety were getting so bad that his father had scheduled them an appointment for today so they could properly celebrate his birthday tonight. 

His mother had been the one to bring him to the office to find out if he even had a quirk, insisting she had to be the one to go with him. In all honesty Izuku wasn’t sure if he had one or not so he excitedly went along. He had to prove that he’d continue to be a useful son, if only for his own sanity. 

“Well, congratulations.” Dr. Kobayashi announced, backing away from Izuku. Izuku’s young heart soared at her words, a purpose long since torn away from him coming back. “It looks like you’ve got a passive mental type of quirk, although you may need another year for every aspect to come in since your mind is still developing.” 

Soon enough, the doctor turned to address his mother, who was slowly becoming more irritable as the doctor continued on. 

Izuku swallowed and kept his rocking to a minimum, staring ahead at nothing as he attempted to pretend he wasn’t hanging off every word the doctor told them. Though Izuku having a quirk was the ultimate goal, making sure her irritability wouldn’t be set on him once they left took priority in the moment. 

“Make sure to watch him for signs of headaches and nausea.” The doctor directed her, “He’ll likely be dealing with migraines either as a quirk drawback or a mere side-effect but I can say for certain his quirk essentially files information away so it will be affecting his intelligence. Make sure to watch his studies and provide some additional stimuli for him since he’ll likely understand concepts much easier than most kids.”

Izuku beamed to himself, carefully staring at the wall and reigning himself in, not registering his mother’s growing distaste until they were back in the car. He made sure to keep to himself on the way home, not wanting his happiness to hurt his mother even more than it obviously was.

His distress grew with each silent second in the car, happiness quickly replaced with something all too similar to the feeling of dread, the cold blanket of emotions washing over him when he saw his mother grip at her steering wheel, knuckles white and red with the strain.  

All too soon, they were home and he made sure to walk behind his mother, two paces behind, like she always expected when they made their way up the steps. 

Their home was on a comfortable corner in an area the adults called suburbia. Not too far into the city but he certainly wasn’t living out in the country or the mountains. 

It was a community his parents were proud to live in. 

The door clicked and he hurried up the last of the sidewalk, right behind his mother as she stepped through the front door. 

She glanced around the place, looking behind her, ignoring Izuku and finally seemed to notice Hisashi wasn’t home. With a blank face, she stepped further in and with a shudder Izuku forced himself to suppress, he followed her, closing the front door behind him and locking it. 

He bent down to attempt to take off his own shoes, not noticing the first tear to fall, though he heard the sniffle following right after. 

Izuku froze, hearing his mother break down, crying hysterically and her purse dropping to the floor with a heavy thud. 

He turned his head slowly, eyes darting around the empty house to see if there was a reason for the tears, a reason that had nothing to do with him. 

But alas, the moment he looked into his mother’s eyes he knew: he was the problem. 

“I didn’t think you’d disappoint me so young Izuku,” Inko sobbed, voice catching on her own hateful words. Izuku felt his face scrunch up but he fought off the tears. His mother never appreciated it when he pretended to play victim. “Of course you’d get something like his quirk. Of course. Well? Do something other than stand there. You’re smarter than this, aren't you?” 

And he was. He was one of the smartest kids in his grade, aside from Kacchan. All of his teachers and even his dad told him that. So he took off his shoes all by himself and scurried away towards his room, letting his vision go blurry as he held his tears in. Carefully, he closed the door before sitting himself in his desk chair and staring at his All Might figurine that was smiling at him. 

He didn’t know what else to do other than to cry quietly. 

Chapter Text

“Izuku.” 

He shot ramrod straight from his previously slumped position on his bed. That tone from Inko never meant anything good for him but despite being spoken to in her disapproving tone more often than not, he could never figure out what he’d done wrong, no matter how smart the other kids and teachers thought he was now. 

He had just gotten back from his first day in second grade and wanted to rest rather than dealing with more people but, alas, Izuku has never really had things go according to plan. 

Especially after they found out what his quirk was that fateful day. Apparently it was his fault he’d destroyed a marriage. It was his fault that he wasn’t supposed to be born with another man’s DNA taking half of his own. It was his fault for not getting a quirk closer to his mothers. It’s been his fault for many years that he merely existed.  

That terrible 50/50 chance had taken away the life he’d known and thrown him into this one. 

Resigned and a bit fearful he made his way out of his room, carefully slipping his notebook in between the mattress and the bedframe to keep his analyses hidden. 

It was imperative that he kept his hobby hidden, from both peers and his mother. 

He remembered the one time his mother had paid attention to him, only to see his nose stuck in a notebook, scribbling furiously. 

That was the day he learned to fear Inko. 

She’d burned all the notebooks with analysis that she found, forcing him to recite a promise to never analyze something again after every burned notebook dropped into the sink, dissolving into nothing but ashes. 

“Yes mama?” Izuku replied, careful to keep his tone curious but not innocent. Inko never liked it when he was too curious about something but she loathed him when he said something innocently. 

Interestingly enough, she also hated it when he didn’t refer to her as anything other than ‘mama’, though thinking of her as anyone other than simply Inko left him bitter. 

“Son, you know that you’re going to waste away in that room of yours, right?” Inko said, beginning her rant as she continued to cook. 

Izuku almost sighed when he realized he’d either be forced outside for the week or he’d be dealing with a much longer rant than he wanted to. The last thing he wanted to explain away was why he preferred locking himself away when he had no known hobbies that could be done in his room other than studying. “I need you to get some sun. A pale complexion won’t look well with your freckles and hair darling.”

Izuku, who had already heard this rant five other times, just dutifully nodded and replied, “yes mama, I understand.” He never understood her obsession with making sure he didn’t look too pale or ensured he used lotion after every shower so no one ever saw his ashy elbows. He honestly believed he never looked pale, at least, not compared to the other kids in his class but he would not be bringing that point up to Inko. 

Inko looked over to her son before shaking her head. “No, I don’t think you do understand. I want you on laundry duty for the next week. You’re a smart enough boy to figure it out so go on.”

Izuku just nodded again, careful not to draw his head down too far or shoulders too close to his chest and turned around to go find a video on how to do laundry. It looked like he had gotten his assignment for this week. 

At least he had something new to study. 

Izuku knew he had some…odd tendencies. For example, everyone in class today was excited about their new project where they’d present about their favorite heroes and what good they did for the community. 

He watched his classmates run around, chattering on about how All Might was so strong and why that made him a good hero but Izuku couldn’t understand it. Privately, he wondered if a drawback to his quirk would include being able to emote properly but even then he still would’ve picked out his favorite heroes based on what they provided for the community. 

All Might was a great number one hero for Japan to have, much better than Endeavor at any rate, but the only active thing he did as a hero was show his face for the public and eased their minds with his title. Izuku couldn’t find anything that pointed to him donating to societal issues, such as quirk discrimination charities, and the man didn’t really patrol all that much anymore. 

Izuku knew his views on heroes and the heroics system in general was not one that most of the public shared with him. He knew that his ability to understand and remember everything he had been told and taught would hinder his ability to focus on what society was content to believe but he also knew it wasn’t an impossible fix. 

Quite honestly, it should be an easy fix so long as their society didn’t cause an uproar. Humans were incredibly quick to adapt to their environments but societal expectations can’t just disappear because Izuku didn’t want to account for them. 

Ah, another one of his odd tendencies; his need to fix and rebuild and help with anything he could get his hands on. Unfortunately for him, he was a little out of his depth when looking through politics ( or, as his friend online suggested, his world domination plans ) but it just served as a reminder that he didn’t operate the same way his fellow classmates did.  

Once the class had settled down and picked their favorite heroes to study, Izuku approached the teachers desk and wrote ‘Present Mic’ before walking back to his desk in hopes of writing down the research he already knew about his hero. 

Izuku had been given the Present Mic themed alarm clock when he was younger and made sure to quietly listen to Mic’s radio station during every broadcast he could tune into. The man was already a hero to Izuku just by giving him that small amount of time to relax and ignore the thoughts running rampant around in his mind. 

Aside from that, Izuku was well aware of the hotline that the hero set up to help support others' struggles as well as the donation efforts he sends out to orphanages and foster kids. Present Mic loudly advocates for kids with seemingly weak or unheroic quirks, whatever that’s supposed to mean - they’re freaking quirks, and he helps educate the next generation of heroes while teaching at UA. 

Izuku may not trust the system nor most of the limelight heroes he sees in action but he will trust in the few heroes that have made their way into Izuku’s heart. He supposes that could be another one of his peculiarities. 

The worst one was when people said he unnerved them. Apparently something about his presence just wasn’t the same as the other kids. His teachers said he knew too much for his own good and watched him with thinly veiled hatred, making sure to send him to detention whenever another classmate of his would fight him. His childhood friend turned bully just kept saying that he didn’t deserve to be a hero if all Izuku was going to do was act like a villain. 

It hurt a bit. To know that the things their teachers said abuot him affected the other kids so much that they thought he was a villain because of their hateful words, all because his quirk couldn’t make him a hero in the long run.  

Admittedly, this is the one odd tendency that Izuku spent the most time covering up. 

He pretended to watch hero fights with stars in his eyes, even as he thought of multiple different plans the heroes could’ve had that lessed their property damage amount, and he smiled brightly, making sure to crinkle his eyes just so and made a rule for himself; to never show his anger, disgust, or annoyance towards other people. 

The progress was slow but Izuku was starting to see his teachers let their guards down a bit, no longer holding in an imaginary breath when he walked into the classroom. Slowly but surely, Izuku started to wonder if he was even able to process emotions because everytime he looked at his own smile, it looked like plastic. 

He supposes this is what he deserves for being such an odd child in the first place. 

Chapter Text

“Izuku.” 

He just got home. He even went outside and played in the park by himself for an hour! 

Although he was really just walking around and looking at people, recognizing when their names came into his mind and then looking down while trying to guess what their quirk could be before looking up again to check and see if he made any correct guesses. 

It was fun, if a bit intrusive to the others, but he enjoyed it. 

And it was a game he could play outside to appease Inko without having to hide any of his odd behaviors and keep out of that stuffy house. Now he’s home and he couldn’t help but privately think that maybe he shouldn’t have come back so soon. 

“Yes mama?” He responded dutifully, racking his brain to figure out exactly what had garnered attention towards him. 

Sometimes, it was to receive a tight hug and she wanted to roughly run her hands through his thick stark-white curls while trying to remind him she’s the only one who would ever love an unlovable child such as himself. 

Sometimes she wanted to tell him that he was too smart to mess up on something as simple as vacuuming, all because he forgot to empty the bin after he was done. And sometimes, she wanted to remind him that laziness was not an option in her household while lounging on the couch and watching him cook their dinner. 

Every time he interacted with his mother he was confused. 

Logically, he knew the things she told him were untrue and she just wanted someone to…command? but his mind and heart didn’t listen to each other. He wanted to have someone to take care of him. He craved someone’s touches and almost-loving hugs. He wanted to have someone to talk to about his day and the things he was learning at the library, since school had gotten too boring. He wanted so much but he just wasn’t sure if he wanted his mother to do all those things, even though she was the only one offering a bit of her attention and forced love at the moment. 

And he knew that was bad. 

He was taught that kids should want the parent that stuck around and fed him and clothed him. Kids were supposed to crave their parent’s love and attention. Kids were supposed to love the parent that didn’t hit when they were angry. They weren’t supposed to ungratefully look for those things somewhere else, from someone else. 

He knew he owed her because of what she’s given him so far; he knew that love was not unconditional and was lucky enough to have someone to play pretend with. 

He also knew she’d want to collect on the debt he’s been racking up soon enough, but he (stupidly) held onto the hope that she’d just see him as her son and not the leech he’s been groomed into thinking he was not the insignificant roommate that couldn’t pull their weight, no matter how hard he tried. 

But, alas, this interaction wasn’t because she wanted to smother him in affection that never felt real. 

“What is this?” She said, gesturing to the rack of cleaned dishes that was waiting to be put away. 

He almost sighed when he noticed his mistake, internally screaming at himself for thinking it’d go unnoticed as he usually does. That was one thing that he noticed bothered him the most; she always noticed when he did things wrong or hadn’t finished a chore, but he went unnoticed for the rest of the time unless it was convenient enough for her.  

“I’m sorry mama. I got too excited to go outside.” He made sure to put a bit of a whine into his tone, hoping his mother would reprimand him for acting like a child, even if he was only nine , instead of being lazy. 

Whenever she accused him of being lazy it was like a buzzing just underneath his skin; a small hum ever-present as she explained to him that disappointing children cannot be lazy. 

It took him longer than he’d like to admit to figure out exactly what that feeling was, anger. 

That emotion that buzzed just underneath his skin and begged to be brought to the surface was anger and even if he didn’t like it when she spoke to him like that, he’d prefer to not be actively angry at the woman. 

It hurt too much when he was looked at with distaste; he didn’t want her to experience the same. 

“You know better than to run outside like that. Especially before your chores are done.” His mother scolds him, turning away. He had to actively hold in a sigh of relief when he realized that’s all she wanted to tell him. “Well, go on. Those dishes need to be put away sometime and this counter is filthy.”

Ah, he should’ve known. Oh well, at least these chores are easy. 

Izuku put them away, darting into his room afterwards and keeping himself out of sight for the rest of the night, not wanting Inko to find him and look at him with disappointment once again. 

In the morning, he went through the same regular routine as he usually did, this time with the television on since his mother had left it on from when she watched the news earlier. 

And, when Izuku finally sat down and paid attention to the screen in front of him, he dropped his jaw in shock.

Izuku felt like he was stuck to the couch. 

He’d watched reruns of interviews and shows on his laptop before but the TV in the living room was always for movie nights that his mother wanted to have with him or for news in the morning. He was constantly surrounded by social media, flicking through villain fights and enjoying the amount of guesswork that came with not knowing exactly what the villain’s quirk was ever since he had gotten his phone. 

He just never realized he hadn’t ever watched a live broadcast. 

Now he knows why. 

The interviewer was asking All Might something but that’s not what he was focused on. No, not at all. Because right now he’s noticing the fact that he knows All Might’s civilian name and quirk. People have theorized about the man’s quirk for years but he’s never cared too much about it since it seemed simple to him. 

As he stared, he noticed the information on the quirk called One for All just kept getting larger, explaining things that shouldn’t be possible. This information was dangerous and apparently All Might’s power was passed down to him which, again, should not be possible but the evidence was there, glaring at him as if it was daring him to ignore it and-

Holy shit, what is All for One?  

…He needed to move; to sit somewhere else and contemplate this. But he just couldn’t. Or, at least, he couldn’t until the figure of his mother was right in front of him. Shit . 

“Izuku, seriously? Your homework isn’t finished, you haven’t touched your chores today and you really think you deserve to be watching TV?” She looked at him, crossing her arms with the remote in her hand. He was so tempted to turn his head and glance at the clock which would read 7:34 AM but he managed to keep a straight face as she kept going. 

Honestly, he was still in shock over the whole All Might issue going on in his head. All Might had been Kacchan’s personal hero for the longest time while Sir Nighteye had been more up Izuku’s lane. Nothing against the guy, honest! He just…wasn’t the type of hero Izuku could see himself becoming but now Izuku knew the truth; a truth behind an impossible quirk. Safe to say he was freaking out. 

He was brought out of his musings when spittle flew into his face and the red face of Inko was glaring at him. “Izuku. Honestly, what am I going to do with you? Do you understand why you cannot do things for your own pleasure before you help out around the house? I don’t think you do. I have to pay for all this electricity while you stare at the screen! I pay for everything around here and the most you can do is sit on the couch?!”

Izuku was almost surprised. This is one of the longest rants she’s held against him without throwing something in her frustration or screaming to the point of incoherency. He could’ve applauded her, but he was sure she wouldn’t appreciate the gesture from a nine year old. And he wasn’t without self-preservation instincts - he really didn’t want to sit through an additional lecture about disrespecting his elders. 

“Just go do something. I don’t care what you do, just go do it.”

Well, that was all the dismissal Izuku needed. He bolted to his room and stared at his analysis notebook, contemplating if he should write anything down or just keep everything he knew in his head. 

It’s not like he’d be able to forget it if he did. 

He shut the notebook and sighed, grabbing his laundry basket on the way out. Time to get back in Inko’s good graces.

Chapter Text

Izuku liked to think that he had perfected the art of doing exactly what his mother wanted. 

Izuku would do his homework away from her and check in after he made dinner to see if she wanted him to keep her company or disappear. He’s gotten very good at keeping his footsteps silent so much so that he took an odd amount of pride in that ability of his. 

He did his best to do every chore and errand Inko threw his way perfectly, offering only the smallest room for error. He sat through each and every one of her rants with an open face and nodded along at the correct parts, dutifully responding back to her while taking every piece of the blame for the smallest issues. 

Tonight, however, she was extra clingy and asked him what he wanted to watch while grabbing a bowl for the popcorn that was humming in the microwave. 

Honestly he hated these nights more than the screaming and incoherent levels she liked to reach when he hadn’t put his shoes away in the correct place. He didn’t care for physical touch, at least not from her, and she always insisted on cuddling throughout an entire movie, refusing to let go of her hold on to him. 

He just nodded along to whatever old movie she had put on and snuggled closer to her, not wanting her to get upset over him not returning her affection, ignoring the burning sensation of her arm across his shoulders and her hand on his upper arm. 

Once the movie started showing its closing credits, his nerves had been fried. 

She had been running her hands through his hair, roughly undoing the curly knots and no doubt made it look like an even frizzier cloud than usual. Irritation gripped his very core when she rubbed her hand up and down his arm, completely content to ignore why her son’s arm was rough with scars and slashes. 

She pulled him impossibly closer before kissing his temple as he felt that irritation burn him. “You know I love you so much, right?”

Izuku just dutifully nodded and smiled delicately. “I know. I love you too.”

She just hummed and patted his shoulder, dismissing him for bed. He made his way to his room slowly, feeling weighed down by the hollow feeling in his chest as he closed his eyes. 

He messed up. Izuku wasn’t supposed to mess up but here he was standing in the bathroom with his shirt off and arms contorted around himself to attempt to properly rub the burn cream into the explosive second-degree burn that now decorated his upper back with the door opening to reveal his mother. 

He was frozen as Inko made her way into the bathroom scene, thinly veiled annoyance shining through her eyes and gently removed his hands before taking over with the process. No matter how much he didn’t want his mother to see the failures painted over his body he felt comforted with the fact that she’d help him through this issue. 

He forgot that he’d have to deal with a lecture throughout it.  

“Izuku,” Inko started, annoyance and disgust obvious through her tone. He pushed down the need to hunch his shoulders when she continued speaking, content to just hang his head lower. “You know how dangerous it is to play with the other kids. I don’t appreciate it when you lie to me about hanging out with new friends.”

He just focused most of his effort into not allowing himself to cry as she roughly dug the pads of her fingers deeper than necessary into his burn as she rubbed, praying for the millionth time that he would be able to forget about this once it was all over. 

Izuku found a special love-hate relationship with his eidetic memory when it came to his memories of his mother. 

“Those boys are too advanced for you to be trying to play with, especially Katsuki-kun, and you have no reason to to play with them in the first place.” She reached around to grab the bandages but Izuku could hardly focus on it. “You understand, don’t you Izuku? You can’t keep running after your old friends, especially ones that can play this rough. You need to be more careful with the games you try to play. This is too much money for medical supplies that don't need to be used.”

Izuku just nodded dumbly, not trusting himself to speak. 

Not now. 

Not while she’s explaining away Katsuki’s bullying and burns that decorate his entire body as friendship and rough-housing even as she tends to the fresh burn spread across his upper back. He can hardly hear her continue her lecture over the phantom explosions ringing in his ear, can barely see her wrap the bandages harshly over the burn as the memory of bright sparks cause Izuku’s vision to swim between bright red, yellow, and black. 

He hated it all; the taunts, the ignorance from Inko, the fact that he’s been running away from Bakugou and his friends for so long and she keeps thinking he runs towards the idiot he used to call a friend. 

He hates how useless he feels whenever she dismisses everything done to him as playground rough-housing. He loathes himself and how he’s never been enough. 

How he’ll never be enough, no matter what he can do. 

It will never matter that he can remember everything that he’s ever seen. Not when all his mother cares about are the squinted eyes of Izuku while he wanders around the house in a daze, desperate to get his chores done as he works through another migraine. It will never matter that he meekly takes her rants and lectures to heart so she’ll have less ammunition against him. 

He hates how much he doesn’t matter. 

He hates how he starts to think he won’t ever matter. 

So he silently takes the lecture and tucks it carefully in the imaginary filing cabinet that he’s made for her ‘advice’ and manages to whisper out a small, “thank you mama. It won’t happen again” before grabbing his shirt from the bathroom floor and putting away the medical supplies. 

Inko just watches him clean up the bathroom before patting his shoulder and sending him off to his room. 

He struggles to keep his cries silent that night, eventually smothering his face into his pillow in a desperate attempt to ensure that his mother wouldn’t hear him. He couldn’t handle it if she found out he was crying for himself, like a timid victim. He wouldn’t be able to handle it if she came by his room and found him like this, only for her to lecture him again as if he’d never have the right to feel for himself. 

Izuku just…hates it all. 

The amount of pressure put on Bakugou to bully him and hurt him. He can see the conflict in his eyes everytime something like this happens and he uses his quirk on Izuku. Like he knows, instinctually, that Izuku wouldn’t ever hurt anyone but has only ever been told that Izuku was a villain in the making. 

He can see how Bakugou wants to scoff everytime his grade is higher than Izukus’ but refrains from doing so since they both know attention on Izuku is a bad thing. He has seen how Bakugou looks at his notebook with interest, since they had worked on his first analysis notebook together before Inko burned it but refuses to take it or look through it. 

Izuku knows he could never hate Bakugou for living up to the status quo. He knows he won’t ever hold his actions completely against him, since no one has ever actually tried to help him become more than his anger. 

So Izuku let himself cry out his frustrations and hurt and pain until he wore himself out and slumped further into his bed. He sighed to himself and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to banish the thoughts from his mind.

Chapter Text

There’s a certain air within the Midoriya household that one of the occupants submissively acknowledges while the other is content to continue contributing to it. 

The tense atmosphere, where each move you make should be calculated and accounted for, attempts to smother anyone who manages to walk through the daunting front door. The delicacy to the suffocating pressure that no one can manage to pinpoint exactly that dances on a tightrope in front of your very eyes, taunting you as it makes its way into your heart and soul, letting you suffer through the unknown by yourself no matter who’s there. 

At least, that’s how Izuku would describe his childhood home. 

All too often, he thinks he’s imagining the atmosphere of the house he’s lived in for his entire life but then he walks into a small cafe for a break from his real world. 

There’s a warm, almost comforting, feeling that settles into Izuku’s bones as he sinks into a corner booth with his coffee and pastry and listens to music while working through a psychology textbook he managed to check out from the local library. He untenses muscles he didn’t notice were tensed as he spends his time there, content to forget about that stuffy and unbearable atmosphere he’ll be forced to return to after he’s done with his food and drink. 

He never truly realized how tense he was during his normal day while at home or in school. 

He hardly even batted an eye at the atmosphere of either place but at the cafe…his guard could shut down. He’d never really felt a warmth that wasn’t meant to harm him, never experienced a light hearted atmosphere that wasn’t a trick to hurt him. It was new and it was a haven for Izuku to use. 

The worst thing about finding his haven while still living in hell was that the air surrounding his house seemed even more daunting to Izuku when he made his way home, laughing at the misery he feels as he walks through the front door with heavy feet and a weighted heart. 

And suddenly, he’s enveloped into a stifling embrace from his mother. 

Arms tightly wrapped around him, irritating the cuts he’d received from his classmates today, and her body confining his own in her personal space, something he really never wants to share with her. 

Muscle memory kicked in as soon as it happened, allowing his arms to shoot up and wrap around her waist and Izuku couldn’t help but breathe when Inko didn’t notice how uncomfortable he was at the display of something he’s sure she would call affection. 

Then she’s crying, blubbering on and on about how he was ten minutes late from his usual time and was worried sick about him. 

Inko quite obviously needed reassurance so Izuku just breathed deeply and repeated his apologies, making up a story about how the study group had gone over the usual time and he stayed to help someone. 

“You know I love you so much, right Izuku?” His mother said sniffling, leaning back to see Izuku’s face as he gave her a small smile, something that felt much closer to a grimace than a smile, and nodded carefully, tightening his grip on her waist. 

“Of course. I love you too. I’m so sorry for worrying you mama.” Izuku says, questioning if the burning in his chest was from the lies he was feeding Inko or from the proximity of the hug he was sucked back into. 

Izuku was tense. 

He hadn’t seen Inko in two weeks now and was running dangerously low on food in the house. 

He’d been doing well; going to school, doing the chores, doing his homework and walking outside for a few hours since it was warm enough. He’d done absolutely everything he could think of doing, including rationing the food and not allowing himself the safe haven of that cafe since he wasn’t sure what else he’d have to use the money for with his mother gone. 

It was getting close, too close, for him to run out of food. And he knew he’d be blamed for the empty cabinets and fridge once Inko came back. 

He knew it’d be bad, which is why Izuku found himself walking to a pawn shop with a few hero posters and figurines that he’d managed to get from Inko on the odd birthday or holiday that she remembered. 

He celebrated with the large sum of money he had received from the workers by going grocery shopping, picking out only the foods that Inko personally approved of. 

He wasn’t taking any chances with her anger and restricted himself to only getting the things she’d eat with him. 

Once he made it to the house and stocked up the pantry and fridge, he hid the rest of the money within the pages of his latest analysis notebook. Izuku knew Inko would find it was selfish to keep the money he had made off of the presents she had gotten him but he wasn’t sure how much he’d need, so he forced his guilt away and laid back onto his bed. 

The next day, Izuku returned with a few more figurines to the same shop and earned more money than he’d seen in his lifetime, baffled by the amount of money he was given though, to be fair, he hadn’t exactly grown up seeing stacks of cash lying around. 

Home and safe, he proceeded to carefully layer it all between the notebook, his first and only comic book, and a small notebook Inko gave him a few years ago. Confident that his mother wouldn’t find his funds for the next time this situation arises, Izuku allowed himself to relax for a few hours, falling asleep before startling himself awake.

Izuku sighed, looking at the time, disappointed to see the clock read 2 am.

Getting up, Izuku filtered through his closet, picking out the old clothes his mother insisted on keeping even when he outgrew them and, in the morning, walked down the street to the thrift shop. 

That hull provided more money than either of the stops at the pawn shop and nearly cried in relief when he got home and proceeded to layer the money in his analysis notebook and comic from earlier. 

Satisfied and mildly content with his earnings thus far, he looked around his room, painfully aware of how pitifully empty it was becoming. He couldn’t understand the melancholy he felt as he walked around and sifted through his closet, picking out more clothes that he could return to the shop with. 

Perhaps it was the loss of something close to childhood innocence. Maybe just the knowledge that he had to sacrifice his wants for his needs was getting to him. 

Whatever it was, it was distracting and hung on his heart like an anchor, forcing him to feel heartbreak whenever he stepped foot in his room.

Afterwards, he started on dinner for himself with the new ingredients he finally had and startled when the front door opened. He listened to his mother’s footsteps walk closer, subconsciously tensing up as she rounded the wall and smiled at him. 

“I always knew you were a smart boy Izuku,” She praised, reaching around to ruffle his hair and went about grabbing the dishes from their cabinets to set up the table. “Did you get groceries?”

Izuku nodded dutifully, making sure to keep most of his attention on the curry he was stirring. “Yes mama, I did.”

“Good job Izuku. I love you darling.” She practically sang as she beamed at him. Izuku’s heart broke as he repeated his ‘I love you too’ and he felt her press a kiss into his curls. 

He…he couldn’t remember when she last smiled at him like that. 

Izuku, the boy who had an eidetic memory, couldn’t remember when his own mother had sent him such a genuine smile and it was all because he had sold his things to have enough money so he wouldn’t starve in her absence. 

He swore he could hear his heart cracking as he set up the hot pads on the dining table and brought the pot of rice and curry and vegetables to the table, watching Inko happily dig into the dinner he made for himself. He wanted to cry and scream or slam a door and brood by himself but he couldn’t. 

He couldn’t bring himself to do anything but watch his mother with a painfully obvious fake smile as she looked at him with an emotion he hadn’t seen in Inko’s eyes since he was three; pride. 

Chapter Text

Three other times. 

Inko had left him to his own devices for multiple weeks at a time with no warning three additional times since the summer when she left him alone the first time. She had left him alone multiple times ever since that summer, only four months ago. 

Honestly, Izuku was waiting for something bad to happen. 

Inko had been too happy when she came back after her last trip, not even reprimanding him for neglecting to vacuum the house. She chose to hum happily as she sat down and invited herself to be a part of the dinner he had cooked with the intention of the leftovers to provide him lunch for the next few days. 

Apparently that would not be happening anymore but that wasn’t the largest worry he had. 

Inko came back after her impromptu trips and praised him. 

He wasn’t sure if she was praising him for ignoring her absence and taking care of himself or as far as she was concerned, was pulling money out of his ass and grocery shopping for them. He had no idea. 

And truly, it hurt a surprising amount to go into his room and glance around in hopes of finding things that could make him more money rather than looking at mere decorations and additional clothes. 

He wondered how much more he could go on like this before he had to find new ways to make money, positive Inko would take notice if anything from the rest of the house went missing.  

These were the only moments he got praise and he was quickly learning to despise it. 

The condescending and smug smile she’d shoot at him while going on and on about how smart he was, talking about how she'd always known he’d learn when being a burden wasn’t an option. 

It concerned Izuku when she’d come into his room and ignore how empty it was now. He, to put it lightly, was terrified of her abandonment becoming permanent. He hadn’t been close to his mother in a long time but it still sent a pang of hurt and disgust through his heart when she came back carefree and relaxed. 

That was not an emotion Izuku was capable of providing for Inko. 

Even when Inko was around for longer periods of time than she was gone, there was a dangerous tint to the stuffy atmosphere Izuku had learned how to live with. The tension was hidden behind how carefree his mother was being, carefully lurking in the shadows to attempt to blindside him. 

Izuku packed a dark green duffle bag that he had full of things he’d need to take with him just in case something came up. The comic and analysis notebook were carefully hidden within the layers of winter clothes he had, stuffed in between socks and undergarments so nothing could have the possibility of tipping his mother off. 

An old blanket hid the presence of the duffle bag and Izuku carefully stuffed those items underneath his bed, in the far corner of the wall. It made him nervous enough to have his money within arm’s reach of Inko but now he felt himself breathing the smallest bit better knowing there were more layers that could further protect his things. 

All this being said, Izuku wasn’t planning on running away. 

Not at all, but he couldn’t stop running through plans and backup plans during the late hours of the night, fretting over how long he’d last in the winter without housing as an option. Izuku began taking his chargers and computer to school, just in case he wouldn’t be invited back into the house or the door would have changed locks. 

He left his window unlocked specifically in case that situation ever occurred. 

He considered each and every option that his mind conjured up, carefully creating plans in case something happened. 

Izuku didn’t think of the most obvious situation though. 

“I swear to god,” Inko groaned. Izuku listened to his mother moan and groan while on the phone with a mysterious someone during the days and nights right after she’d get back from her impromptu trips. He continued to half-heartedly listen to their conversation as he walked into the kitchen with the intent of grabbing a late night snack. “Hunny, I’d love that for us but I need a way to get rid of the brat.”

Izuku’s breath caught and slowly put the bowl he had gotten out back in the cabinet, careful to keep his movements silent while he listened to his mother hum in consent in the other room. “And you really think you have a way to get him out of my hair?”

Izuku’s mind went into overdrive; people would go looking for him but he didn’t like what ‘getting rid of him’ implied. 

He’d prefer people not to find a 12 year old dead outside of Tokyo in a dirty alley. 

Slowly, Izuku reached up to the taller cabinets and grabbed a few canned foods and bags of rice before making his way to the foyer and grabbing his shoes. He was absolutely taking the food and clothes his own money paid for before he essentially kicked himself out. 

“You sound so confident about this.” Inko giggled with a teasing tone in her voice. Izuku wanted to throw up listening to her flirt over her son’s disappearance like it was nothing. 

He felt bile rise in the back of his throat but forced himself to swallow. He had no time to freak out about this; right now he needed to prioritize his time. 

As quiet as he could manage, Izuku shuffled the acquired food into his room and dropped it all onto his bed before turning around to shut his bedroom door. Izuku never had a lock on the door growing up so he just had to deal with listening carefully for Inko’s footsteps as he swiftly began packing up his book bag with essentials and his chargers, opting to take his phone and computer. 

Soon enough, although it felt much too slow in Izuku’s opinion, he was reaching under the bed and grabbing the old blanket and duffle bag. 

Stuffing the bag with the food he acquired, he also turned around to grab the large shopping bag that held the last of his hero merchandise and clothes he was willing to sell. He wasn’t keen on leaving behind the only thing that currently made him money so he shifted that bag onto his desk. Izuku pulled out his key and left it sitting on the empty desk, hoping his mother would get the hint once she realized he wasn’t home. 

The cynical part of him chuckled to himself, wondering when she’d even see it. 

Lifting the window, Izuku dropped his bags and shouldered on his book bag while slipping out. 

There was no fanfare, no second guesses about his decision. 

Just the smallest amount of guilt that was quickly squashed by the sounds of his mother giggling on the phone running through his mind. The only thing Izuku turned back for was the window and suddenly he was homeless.

Izuku mentally thanked the gods that school had already finished and would have roughly a month before more people noticed he was gone. For now, Izuku held his bags close and made his way into the only district he knew that had abandoned warehouses he could stay in before he left the area. 

Izuku set his shoulders and lightened his steps as he made his way to the south side of town, towards the district the kids his age dubbed “the seedy district.” 

Chapter Text

To be blunt, Izuku was fucking terrified. 

He hadn’t wandered around the southside much. Too many unknowns, although those unknowns normally just defer to people’s behaviors. Izuku was well-versed in figuring out people’s personal information though. With the smallest amount of digging through their name and quirk he’d start to get a detailed history about the person. 

At first the information made him nervous as well as giddy with excitement. 

When he was younger he just took the knowledge of someone’s name and quirk and ran with it, enjoying how he could just look at their shoes and acquire an abundance of knowledge about their quirk. Never had he decided to, essentially, put a stop to the quirk information and allow other information about the person to file in. 

The information was exhilarating, although he knew just how personal and dangerous this was and opted to stay silent about his newfound abilities, even if the migraines and bouts of insomnia were rougher than normal afterwards.

But that just made him more giddy because he was finally working on his quirk. 

Long ago, he’d convinced his classmates and teachers that it only gave bare information and worked through physical contact. That might have been his saving grace from more physical bullying than he’d been subjected to.

Nonetheless, Izuku was aware of the information he had on people and could acquire it with a mere glance. He knew people didn’t like it, people considered him dangerous, apathetic, uncontrollable. So, while it might all have some truth to it, Izuku does his best to appear unassuming, innocent, confused. 

That’s what people wanted; a controllable child that went with the flow and called no extra attention to himself. 

A small part of Izuku couldn’t help but feel grateful for the hell he’d been subjected to throughout his life because there’s absolutely no way he’d have the balls to deal with walking around the southside without his experiences. He was used to the threatening glares that the people behind dumpsters were throwing his way and he could handle more pain than the average 12 year old so he wasn’t too nervous about being threatened and hurt. 

Another part of Izuku pondered how absolutely suicidal he had to be if he thought he’d be okay wandering in between different abandoned buildings, trying to find the best one to hunker down in before the sun officially sets. 

He knew he didn’t want to die, nor did he want to be the one who killed himself but…well…sometimes it’s a nice thought; being able to leave whenever he wanted. 

When he was younger he found himself to be fascinated with the idea of death, the idea of leaving this world and the struggles behind permanently but now his relationship with death has grown more into acceptance. Like the pre-quirk American saying, ‘if I die, I die’ and Izuku appreciates that saying because it’s true. 

If he dies, he’ll be dead. 

It seemed simple to him although he supposes with all the spider lilies and baits he had received this past year from his classmates it wouldn’t be such a difficult thing to deal with, especially considering he had been isolated his whole life. 

The last part of Izuku was probably his instincts because they were screaming at him to get inside and make sure no one sees which one he chooses because he’s carrying too many bags for him not to possess any valuable items. This, admittedly, made him so much more nervous than he wanted to be and did his best to avoid showing how he was feeling, not wanting to be jumped in the few hours he’d been homeless. 

That…that would be bad. 

But apparently luck was on his side for the evening. He found a relatively small warehouse nestled between two larger buildings that were obviously inhabited. Izuku wasn’t sure at first but once he entered it became apparent that no one would willingly stay within the small warehouse he had found, which meant he would be safe for the night. 

Closing the steel door behind him, he noted the stale air within the warehouse clung to him like a second skin. The warehouse felt…dangerous in a sense. Like something unpredictable had taken place here and now the local squatters knew they’d prefer not to be the next one to deal with unpredictability. 

How wonderful for Izuku. 

He shrugged to himself and moved further away from the entrance, kicking up dirt and dust as he walked. On the off-chance that someone saw him come in here and dared to try and take his things, he wanted to be the furthest away from the broken windows and front doors. He finally found a dark corner, perfect for him to hide his things and himself in, and promptly set up camp. 

He didn’t necessarily know what to do now. 

True, he had a thought-out plan and it was working out for him so far but he really had no idea where to go from here. He just felt…empty. 

Izuku just couldn’t find a purpose for himself anymore. 

Sure, when he was a kid he thought of being a hero but that was quickly diminished with the help of…well everyone’s insistence that he couldn’t and the other options he’d noticed were available. All he really wanted to do was help people. Yes, he wanted to advocate for people who were heavily discriminated against (like him) but he needed to have a better platform than heroics. 

Heroes are seen as infallible and unbreakable. They’re public figures and celebrities rather than people who focus on the individual issues running rampant in society. Not to mention, Izuku would need the public’s trust . That includes everyone who’s been wronged by a hero, villains who had no other choice, and even kids. All quirks seem to be compared to heroes, villains, officers, or doctors. 

Izuku knows as a kid, if someone would have told him he could become an analyst for heroes, he wouldn’t have spent so long mourning his inability to become a hero. But that’s all besides the point. 

His only motivation was to help people but if he wants to disappear, he’s going to have to figure something else out. UA was his dream school, purely because of the media attention and allies he could garner from it. But Izuku knows that their principal would check into his background, wonder about his history. 

At this point, that was the only flaw in his plan. 

Izuku just rolled his eyes at himself in an attempt to get him out of his own head. 

He had a plan now and it didn’t line up with the one he used to have for his high school career which wouldn’t be for another three years. Simple. 

Now, if only he could will himself to sleep. 

To put it lightly, Izuku slept terribly. 

Every creak, groan and whistle of the wind had him whipping his head around, looking intently for the hidden threat. He considered himself too light of a sleeper so it was mildly irritating to deal with. He knew how unlikely sleep actually was for his body currently, even if he needed all the rest he could get. 

Izuku just sighed softly to himself before wrinkling his nose at the musty smell and looked towards the closest window, trying to gauge what time it was. The sun was just coming up, peaking through the bottom of the window ledge and Izuku groaned. 

It was too damn early to be homeless. 

Despite everything, Izuku snorted softly at that thought, dissolving into a quiet bout of sleep-deprived chuckles. Sure, it was a shitty situation but at least Izuku got new trauma jokes out of it all. 

It took him longer than he wanted to admit to get himself shaken out of his hysterical laughter. Perhaps this was a mental breakdown Izuku failed to account for in his plans, or possibly just a mental break in general. Whatever it was, it passed fairly quickly and Izuku threw his duffle bag over his backpack on his shoulders before grabbing his shopping bag. 

People weren’t as inclined to steal from others, let alone kids, during daylight hours but Izuku was still refusing to take any chances. He slipped out of the warehouse without seeing anyone around and breathed a small sigh of relief before wincing when the front doors banged closed. He was glad no one saw that terrible attempt at a stealthy getaway. 

Quickly, Izuku shuffled out to the main streets. Sure, it was the southside but as long as Izuku didn’t make eye contact while refusing to hunch his shoulders in, he should be good to avoid any unwanted human interaction. 

Izuku kept thinking about his plan as he moved towards the pawn shop and clothing stores. 

He would need to go shopping, mostly for snacks and other easy-to-eat foods but he also needed hair dye and possibly eye contacts. While he was sure his migraines would get worse if he messed with his sensitive eyes, they might become his saving grace if someone posts a missing photo of him too early. Sure, white hair and green eyes were common in this day and age but those traits combined with the mess of freckles and dark skin would make him easy to locate. 

He honestly had to hold in a snort at how easy it seemed to fool anyone who would bother looking for him. 

It’s not hard for him to imagine the proper steps to take in hopes of getting everyone to drop his case. Colored contacts weren’t even all that terrible anymore and people could wear them continuously for months without having to replace them or take them out. 

Technology really was something to be marveled at. 

Izuku really just wanted a second opinion of it all though. He had no idea what color would look right on him. Should he grab black hair dye, or is that too obvious? Would that even turn out good with his natural hair color being stark white? Izuku feels that decision would lead to him re-dying his roots every few days and that’s not a concept he’s particularly fond of. 

Also, what kind of eye color would work for him? He wants this new persona to look natural, like he didn’t just become a homeless child who’s hoping to run away and play missing. 

Whatever. 

If all else fails, Izuku supposes asking shady people wouldn’t be out of the question. Of course, Izuku will be looking through any information he can get on the people in question before walking up to them. 

He’s not stupid. He does have a concerningly little amount of self-preservation though - something he should keep in mind. 

As long as they don’t have murder and torture amoung their history information, Izuku supposes he’ll be fine to get a few opinions about new identities. Almost everyone who lives on the streets or works in shady places have random aliases they choose to go by, probably not wanting to associate their work with their birth name. 

And isn’t that a crazy thought. 

Izuku will need an alias; a new name. What the hell is he supposed to do? It’s not like he’s had any worthwhile nicknames he could use nor is he fond of keeping anything tied to the names he has. Although, there is a feeling of identity in his name. Afterall, it’s been his for the entire time he’s been alive. Izuku is well aware that family names are something of ease to change in Japan. It’s well known that whoever you live with, that’s who you’ll share a family name with but currently Izuku is living with dust and cement floors. 

He isn’t particularly inclined to share a name with random warehouse floors just yet. 

Despite that, legally changing his full name would point fingers to his new alias and that’s not part of his plan. Creating a new identity would take some time, although he’s not opposed to the idea. It wouldn’t be all that difficult either, so long as no one digs into the false history. 

His father had originally settled down in Japan, having just moved from Mexico, and found Inko. Izuku only knows that much since Inko refused to say anything else on the matter, choosing to talk about Hisashi instead. 

Nevertheless, the concept should be fairly simple. 

He just needs to change his name to something that wouldn’t point fingers at Midoriya Izuku. That would take a while but Izuku is patient. He’ll deal with it once the time comes. Right now, he should deal with slipping into this pawn shop before his head falls off from how much he’s swung it back and forth as he walks further out of the district. 

Thank god he only planned on being there for one night.

Chapter Text

The bell on the door rang softly as Izuku made his way into the shop. 

“I’ll be with you shortly!”

Izuku hummed in response and let himself look around. This pawn shop wasn’t a big hit with foot traffic. The outside was run down, the shelves in here looked like they would collapse in on themselves if someone bumped them. The floors were stained all around, no doubt pointing fingers to terrible things that have once happened in this store. 

But, they did well with their online traffic. Most collectables and similar hero items were sold online for quite the price. Izuku did his research before walking in for the first time, wanting to know if he’d be getting ripped off or not. He was pleasantly surprised when the prices they sold for were close to the ones they bought the items for. 

Ever since then, Izuku had decided he would only sell to this pawn shop. They never asked any questions, despite the eyebrow raises pointed towards him when he came in with shopping bags full of old hero merch. It was clear the workers and owner knew how to keep a secret. 

And if they didn’t? Well, let’s just say Izuku wasn’t the only one doing semi-illegal things during his spare time. 

“Oh! Hey, kid! Whatcha got for us this time?” Tanaka-san spoke up as he rounded the corner with a grin. He was nice enough, a bit on the blunt side, and had an enjoyable sense of humor. 

He was only six years Izuku’s senior and worked part-time to help himself through college. Izuku knew that he had a younger sister, the same age as Izuku himself, and they both had quirks that resembled their mothers. 

Tanaka-san was capable of processing things four times the speed as someone else. This didn’t necessarily make him smart, but if he had a task to do, he’d be the first one to understand what it was. His sister was capable of speaking four times the speed as someone else. Much more interesting, considering the drawbacks to a quirk like that, but Izuku refused to ask. 

Because, Tanaka-san had never actually verbalized all of this. Izuku was only working with the information he got whenever he looked into Tanaka-san’s history. 

He stepped up to the counter and began digging through his shopping bag, glancing up when he saw the other man frown slightly. Izuku knew red flags would be raised with the bags he was carrying around, but he had no other choice. And he wasn’t stupid enough to leave them unattended. 

“Here we go.” Izuku said, digging out a Present Mic ‘Put Your Hands Up’ First Edition action figure, still preserved in its box. He had always wanted to play with it, but his mother told him dolls were for children to enjoy. He hadn’t been a child in a long time in her eyes. 

“Damnn.” Tanaka-san whistled lowly as he pulled on some gloves to inspect the figurine. “That’s an old beauty, for sure . When did you even get a hold of this?”

“The 27th of December, three years ago.” Izuku answered back quickly. It took him no time at all to remember the dates he had received gifts from his mother. Such rare occurrences were treasured in his mind. Even now. 

“Alright. Alright.” Tanaka-san muttered, turning over the box. “Do you know where you got it? Cause I might have to go get me one of these.” He spoke with a chuckle. 

Izuku hummed. “I was never given the name for the store. Sorry.”

Tanaka-san waved him off. “Don’t be. Three years ago is a long time to remember something like that.”

Izuku rolled his eyes. Three years ago was nothing in his mind. It took no effort to remember the year’s events. He had simply never been given the name of any place his mother went, unless it was the grocery store, the bank, or her workplace. 

He never asked, and she certainly never told. 

“Well, I certainly think that’ll be worth something.” Tanaka-san glanced back at him with a grin. “Would I be correct if I assumed you brought more?”

Izuku shook his head lightly, making sure to match Tanaka-san’s grin. “Perhaps.” He pulled out an old All Might and Sir Nighteye poster, one of only ten thousand to be produced. He ignored Tanaka’s gasp and forked over a bobblehead Present Mic and a few other collectables. 

Tanaka whistled again as he looked at everything now on the counter and nodded with approval. “This is nice stuff, kid. Give me a few minutes and I’ll make sure to let you know when I’m finished, alright?”

“Alright.” Izuku responded, turning away to peruse through the shelves. It was addicting, to look through the collectibles and find obscure things people have pawned off. He liked creating stories, thinking about who brought these in. 

He stopped browsing when his eyes landed on a Gang Orca action figure, a button on his chest that Izuku was dying to press. He mulled it over, glancing back towards Tanaka-san before shrugging to himself and pressed the button. Immediately, a terrible imitation of (what sounded like) dolphin noises echoed out from the speaker on the toy. 

Izuku cringed, but couldn’t help himself from staring at the toy as Gang Orca’s mouth opened and closed, pretending like the toy was speaking. 

Tanaka-san chuckled softly, snapping Izuku’s attention back towards him. “Did you enjoy that?” Izuku scrunched his face, making his displeasure obvious. Tanaka-san laughed louder. “Yeah. I’m not the biggest fan either. Tap the button again to shut it off.”

Izuku let his hand dart out and quickly pushed it again. It began screeching and Izuku glared at the offending toy. “I thought you said it would stop?”

Tanaka cackled, leaning over, clutching his stomach, tears in his eyes, cackling . Izuku’s eye twitched. 

“Sorry! Sorry.” Tanaka gasped, wiping a stray tear away. “Press it again.”

Izuku rolled his eyes and looked pointedly at the man. 

“I swear!” Tanaka went to defend himself. “It’ll work this time. Promise.”

Izuku rolled his eyes but hesitantly went to grasp the toy again. He felt the button with his thumb and glared at Tanaka-san as he pressed it once again. 

The toy, blessedly, went quiet, no longer making any noise and Izuku breathed a sigh of relief. He quickly placed the toy back and walked back up to the counter, staring at Tanaka-san who had yet to wipe that ridiculous grin off of his lips. 

“Someone else needed to learn the hard way too.” Tanaka defended himself. “Now, you and I have been trauma-bonded over that toy. Welcome to the club.”

Izuku felt something warm his heart when Tanaka inadvertently shared something with him, even as small as this. Outwardly, Izuku let himself groan as he neared the counter. “I could’ve lived a full life without trauma-bonding over a Gang Orca toy.”

“Eh.” Tanaka-san shrugged his shoulders as he processed his items. “I’m 98% sure you’ll live.”

“And the other two percent?”

“Up for debate.” Tanaka grinned. “It is, afterall, a very dangerous toy. Who knows what could happen.”

Izuku huffed. “I’ll let you know I’m still alive later, then.”

“That would be preferred.” Tanaka nodded, smiling. 

Izuku watched him silently as he bounced back and forth between the items, the pricing list, and the cash drop area. He watched Tanaka move efficiently, fluidly. It was interesting to watch. He let a small smile slip onto his face, content to watch Tanaka move around and work well. 

“Okay, kiddo!” Tanaka whirled around, digging through the drawers. He pulled out the standard paperwork for the trade and took the time to highlight where Izuku needed to sign as he spoke. “Since everything here was worth a bit more than regular collectibles, you’re going to receive a 30% turnover. Here,” he circled the total expenses, after tax. “Is what you’ll make today and here,” He marked the agreements paragraph. “Is what you’ll need to read through and agree with before the transaction can go through.”

Izuku nodded towards him, pulling the paper towards him. “Alright. Can I borrow your pen?”

Tanaka snorted as Izuku held his hand out expectantly. Once he was handed the pen, Izuku flipped through the packet quickly, hardly sparing more than ten seconds to a page. He signed as he went and quickly flipped to the last page, skimmed the terms and agreements, and signed his full signature. 

He shoved the paper towards Tanaka, sending him a sheepish grin when he nearly forgot about the pen in his hand. 

“Thanks, bud. Here’s your earnings,” Tanaka laid out his money into the tray and Izuku reached in to take it. “And make sure to come back if you have anything else for me.” Tanaka winked, as if they just shared an inside joke, and smiled brightly at him. 

Izuku forced himself to smile back. “Thank you, Tanaka-san. I’ll see you soon.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” Tanaka grinned. 

Izuku made sure to thank the man once again before walking out the door. He tilted his head up, eyes partly closed as he did so. The day wasn’t too cold, not with the sun beaming down, distracting him from the chilling wind. He pushed his way fully out the door and shoved himself to join the people milling around on the sidewalk. 

Once Izuku left the pawn shop, stuffed the money in his book bag, and shoved the shopping bag into his duffle bag he was ready for the next step of his plan. 

Thankfully, his train pass is just registered as a normal citizen’s pass, so it won’t alert anyone of what he used his pass for. It’ll just show up that he used it. The serial numbers on his card are obviously used to track when he uses his card, if only to guarantee that they were charging him correctly every month for his monthly pass. He’s also heard of police using certain train passes to track someone down and locate who they needed. 

But, interestingly enough, Japan’s train stations don’t have cameras or monitors of any sort. Only the train cars themselves do. 

So he waltzed across the street, towards a convenience store and grinned to himself as he made his way inside. He browsed throughout the hair care section and came to stop right next to someone with a hoodie, cargo pants, boots, and a face mask. Glancing over at the tall man, Izuku felt the information run through his mind and almost dropped his jaw in shock. 

Todoroki Touya 

Known aliases: Dabi; Blueflame

Age: 20

Quirk: Blueflame - Grants the ability to generate hot blue flames. The temp-

“Ahm.” The sound of the man in front of him clearly his throat pointedly broke Izuku out of his staring. He winced and awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck as he stammered out an apology. Izuku hastily returned his attention to the hair dyes and did his best to ignore the weird tension in the air now. 

Eventually, Izuku just picked up a black hair-dye box and flipped it over, grumbling to himself as he read the maintenance instructions. It would be a pain to begin using these all the time. He certainly didn’t have the funds to work around dying and re-dying his hair constantly. Not while he was jobless, homeless, and degreeless. 

The man next to him, a Todoroki , dropped a green hair dye box on the ground. Before Izuku could grab it for the man, he walked away, stuffing his hands into his pockets and turned a sharp corner. He was gone. 

Izuku rolled his eyes at the rudeness before bending down and grabbing the box. He looked at it, nearly faltering when he read the label. It was permanent dye. Hair dye that was intended to last for six months to a year, with no retouching issues in sight. 

It was nearly unbelievable until he turned the back, and realized a small time business dedicated their quirk usage to the sprocket, ensuring that the roots wouldn’t grow back in until six months were up. 

Izuku stared at the corner he had seen Todoroki walk around, a small smirk forming on his lips. 

It seemed he may have just made his first ally.