Archive of Our Own

Midoriya Izuku. Hopeless, but full of hope. Friendly, but never your friend. Quirkless, but with a heart so strong you almost couldn't tell.

Izuku was five years old when he was diagnosed as Quirkless. He and his mother just assume it would come later, like autumn breezing by after summer, later than you would expect to come. Kacchan had grown restless through the twelve months. The fifty three weeks. The three hundred sixty five days. The eight-thousand seven hundred and sixty hours. Izuku could count the time in several different ways, but the results never changed. He didn't have a Quirk, and he never would.

His life from ages five to thirteen was, in one word, Agony. There are countless synonymous locutions for those hellish years he spent alone– pain, heartbreak, affliction, grief, trauma, torment, torture, distress, woe. Make a list, read it twice, and add more. 

He was lucky for his mother. In all the days, all the pain and anguish, she never once blames him. She didn't think he was at fault for this label given to him by man, unwanted, filled with wretchedness and misery, one thrust upon him with no small amount of slight. The world gave him this accolade, this diagnosis, this death penalty, but Midoriya Inko dealt with it. She lost her friends. She lost her husband. She lost all affinity gifted to her by her peers, just like Izuku had with his. Even the Bakugous, Mitsuki, Masaru, and their son Izuku's age, Katsuki. Suddenly no one wanted to speak with her, they declined phone calls, and canceled plans. That day, Izuku lost all faith in the human race.

She may not blame Izuku, but that's okay, because Izuku blames himself. Why couldn't he have a Quirk? Why couldn't he stand up to Kacchan, and take back what little dignity could be restored from the ashes of their past friendship.

He spent years trying to treat himself with the grace that no one but his mother ever showed him. People on the street, people who didn't know, were nice, and Ms Yoruichi at the grocery store liked him anyways, regardless of the bright red beacon that his shoes always gave off like a searchlight on a foggy bay. She wasn't the kindest person in the world, but she was definitely amazing. She didn't care about Izuku's status as the metaphorical village idiot, and instead gave him hot coffee on the off chance that Izuku got caught in some rain or storm, debilitating weather or other lackluster conditions that led Izuku to her hole-in-the-wall grocery store and apartment. 

Some odd years ago, Izuku started up a hobby of Quirk Analysis, because if he didn't have his own, at least he could study others, right? Izuku thought it would be a useful skill, breaking down anyone's universe-given gifts in what must be two minutes or less, now. Kacchan did not seem to agree, and Izuku rounded his scarred notebooks versus his clean and healthy ones, and the bad far outweighed the good, just like it did in literally any other category of Izuku's life. 

He thought about quitting, giving up his hobby and maybe running away, but in the end he didn't feel like he could have learned the necessary goings-on to do so. Besides, Izuku's mother needed him, as much as Izuku hated to admit it. Izuku cost her her social life, but he knew either way she would rather have her son than them. She told him that this further proves how good Izuku was. Those people that abandoned them in a helpless time of Izuku and Inko's lives weren't worth it, and only painted the canvas in the colours they made themselves out of.

It was strangely poetic, how insistent Izuku's mother was that he should stay, as if she knew what he had planned to do– saving up a hollow allowance and hopping a train to nowhere– and reacted accordingly to stop him from doing so. 

There was a time in Izuku's life that he noticed his mother was fretting about unknown circumstances, ones that she almost refused to indulge him with, until she did. The Life-Expectancy Statistics of Quirkless Children in Japan. Apparently one in four Quirkless kids commit some form of suicide, or try to, before age sixteen, with another half succeeding a second time after that. It broke Izuku's heart to see her worried that he would become another part of the tragic statistics, even as he cried with her that he would never.

Either way, he was right. He would not do anything like that to himself or his mother, and actively tried to prevent being in areas with danger, even though the heroes Quirks were the coolest of all, and it had Izuku perturbed to miss out on seeing them.

In these trying times, he found Eraserhead, one of very few good heroes left. Izuku knew the society of heroes that Izuku found himself existing as a part of was torpid and apathetic, and he often found himself secretly chastising the heroes that he believed to be doing something wrong, as if he knew more about heroics than they do. But that didn't mean he didn't indulge in a few guilty pleasures, such as tuning into Present Mic's Put Your Hands Up Radio on Thursdays, when he found himself with a few extra hours of tedious time for leisure. That, coincidentally, was how he found out about the practically nonexistent scarf wielding superhero, when Present Mic somehow coaxed the vigilante-like hero to step into the spotlight for Hero Week. Or, more accurately for this occasion, 'that one time Eraserhead complained on live radio for an hour and a half'. 

There, he learnt of a boy by the name of Shinsou, who was a regular caller, when he asked Eraserhead an oddly specific question about safety in heroics, and undesirable Quirks in the field. To which Eraserhead replied with a hard, defensive, somehow reassuring tone that told Izuku (and whoever else was listening) that he was passionate about the subject.

So yes, Eraserhead was a top favorite, because the man mentioned Quirklessness in his shameless tirade on Quirk Ethics, and he did not speak even a single negative word of Izuku's least favorite label.

Through the power of believing in himself (or the power of almost drowning in sludge), Izuku met All Might when he was fourteen years old, just getting out another painful day at Aldera Middle School, and fighting for his life as a villain aptly named Sludge forced himself down his throat in an attempt to take control of Izuku's motor functions. All Might rescued him, as he should, and attempted to leave Izuku behind with only an autograph, and a hurting heart.

Of course, the answer was no. Izuku didn't expect anything different, but somehow hearing it in All Might's actual voice instead of the one he knew was in his head made it so much worse than Izuku thought. Maybe he just liked the pain, now, with how often Izuku hurts himself with his own hope. 

Encountering the same villain attacking his friend was certainly a treat, considering that Izuku had never willingly went toe-to-toe with a villain before, and likely never would again, considering how his life in heroics was going. 

And then, miraculously, Izuku could survive in heroics. All Might himself, or whatever the small version of him was called, approached him, while the setting sun behind the blond man bathed the area in a vibrant and unique orange hue, telling him of a generational Quirk called One For All, and allowing Izuku the opportunity to earn it, if he would only train privately with the number one hero. 

Izuku cried, out of fear of the situation, confusion on this new change at being great, and relief. Heart-crushing relief that he could be more. He could be more than a mindless news story, or a statistic traumatic to have knowledge of. He could do more. He could have more than a minimum wage dead-end job, and a crusty apartment in Sapporo. 

Of course he accepted. How could he not? Yes, it was dangerous, and yes, Izuku was told not to tell anyone, not even his mother, but he had a chance to live instead of survive. Live to see tomorrow instead of live to die soon.

Of course, Izuku couldn't have the Quirk until he worked for it, but that was fine. All Might explained it like an egg in the microwave, and how it would explode. Izuku needed to build up muscles before he could obtain the salient power. So he did.

He worked, and he worked. He worked until his hands were raw, and his back was breaking but he did it! It took ten months. Izuku was fifteen now, and he was about to take UA High School's challenging Heroics Entrance Exam. There, he met Uraraka Ochako. And there, he saved her. Sure, yes, he broke several bones along the way, but he had a feeling that was the start to a very complicated relationship with this borrowed power. 

But, despite his recent upkeep of physical health, and how well he thought he had been doing, after all the work to clear the beach proved ineffective. 

He was half tempted to blame UA for making the tests biased, but to write a formal letter to the principal, or whomever else is responsible, would mean exposing himself as a previously Quirkless individual, and he'd rather not give up his superiority over what he used to be. 

He'd much rather do most anything else than actually tell anyone about his Quirk and lack thereof, or people that didn't already know. 

When he got his letter– the very letter he was tempted to throw away because he knew what it would say– curiosity won him over, and he opened the surprisingly heavy letter, only for a disk, and the actual letter to fall out. Both were official congratulations, one said in All Might's voice, with the man imposing himself on the holographic screen, and the other was written out by Nezu, the principal of UA, according to the paw print and signature at the bottom of the lengthy page, discussing his placement in the exam.

He watched the video, read the letter, and cried. Then he did all three again. And again. And again, just to make it real. 

He was super excited to join Class 1-A for heroics lessons at UA high school next year. He was in. His mother was excited for him as well, dancing and celebrating in the very same room that held the memory of tearful apologies. 

He was ready to train, and become a hero! He would study all that was necessary and more, he would train to the best of his ability with his brand new Quirk, and he was going to do it well!

'Never meet your heroes,' Izuku thought, wrapped in his new teacher's scarf (a strangely familiar device that led Izuku to believe that this man is Eraserhead without the grainy resolution of the videos he found on YouTube. His (second) favorite hero was in the middle of a harsh admonishment against Izuku, to speak ill of how hard he worked to get here. He told him that he didn't deserve to enroll in the school, and that he was useless if he couldn't throw even a single successful punch. Izuku didn't think it was very fair, due to this being the very first day, and the second time he's ever used this Quirk (but he can't know that). 

How is he still not good enough? Mr Aizawa said his Quirk is useless and impractical, and he'd never make it as a hero. How was he supposed to be good enough for these people, if none of them ever gave him a chance?

He'd throw that ball, and he'd throw it well. He'd prove them all wrong, and he'd be Midoriya Izuku, the Hero Course student. That is if he doesn't get expelled if this punch doesn't work.

He fired off his Quirk at the last second, feeling the wind rush around him, and through his ears as it was disturbed by the sheer force of the blast. The ball was launched, and pretty far, by the looks of it. Aizawa didn't announce his results, but that was okay, because he proved him wrong. It only cost him a finger to do it.

The rest of the tests passed with ease, Izuku putting just a touch more effort into them with his Quirk, and just doing his best when he couldn't. With any luck, Eraserhead would see that he was trying, and not put him in last place. If Izuku had to guess, it was the short, ugly purple guy that would come in last, or the invisible girl. 

He was almost hesitant to learn their names. So far he had a list of who was nice and who wasn't, starting off strong with Kacchan in first place, just like he always wanted. The other first place goes to Uraraka, or the tall black haired boy. Name starts with an S, he believes. Yes, Izuku is worried about learning names, and that's not only because he's terrible at it. It was because his old classmates hated it when he called them by name. Even their family name was strictly prohibited. 

Izuku hates logical ruses. What a waste of time and effort. He got last place, and he was sure he was going to get the boot, but it was just a trick? What a stupid way to motivate people! If all you're going to do is live under an illusion of what's real or not, maybe he should be a magician instead! He could never say those things out loud. 

Even a week after he first started his first year at UA High, after Aizawa announced that he would not be expelling anyone on the first day, Izuku was still worried about it, about the class finding out, and getting the same treatment than he did at Aldera, or worse. 

"Alright, today, we will be working on Quirkless sparring," Mr Aizawa spoke languidly, looking at each one of the members of Class 1-A one at a time, perhaps lingering on Izuku for longer than the rest. Izuku was doomed on this day. He had a Quirk, but somehow he had a feeling that this was the start of a very terrible thing.

There were only so many ways this could go wrong, Izuku believed. Worse case scenario is either they find out about his previous status, and expel him, or they find out and make an example. A punching bag, if you will, with only a few more privileges, if it heads in Izuku's favor at any point.

"Isn't Quirklessness going to be an issue?" He asked quietly, without meaning to at all. If he kept quiet, he could keep safe. None of them would find out, and he would be fine.

When he realized what he said, he slapped a hand over his mouth, emerald eyes widening in terror. Hopefully no one heard him, and they could continue the lesson. 

"What did you say, Midoriya?" The teacher asked pointedly, staring at him. Izuku could tell, even now, that his black eyed gaze was burning a hole in his head, searching his body language and expression for the answer to his question. The answer that Izuku really didn't want to give him, "Speak up for the class, please."

"I-I said…" Izuku stammered, pulling his hands away from his mouth, and instantly feeling nineteen sets of eyes on him, with his trembling picking up speed, "I… I said.."

"Speak up, Midoriya." Mr Aizawa pressed acrimoniously, tone hard-pressed for answers.

"I… I said 'Won't Quirklessness be an issue?'" Izuku replied as loudly as he could muster, feeling tears build on his eyeline. He wondered if he would be expelled for asking such a question.

"How could you say that?" One of Izuku's classmates asked incredulously, angry at him.

"Yeah! Kirishima's right! How could you talk about them like that?" Another one shouted.

Suddenly, the class was filled with uproarious defenses on a part of Izuku that he'd never seen anyone care for. He'd never seen this many people advocating for the Quirkless population, and it would have been wonderful to experience if they weren't thinking the worst of him. 

"You're despicable!"

"He hates Quirkless people!"

"He's a bigot!"

"He should be expelled!"

"Quiet!" Mr Aizawa yelled over the chaos, trying to assuage the furor of the classroom. Suddenly, the only sounds in the classroom was the near-silent buzz of Eraserhead's Quirk, and Izuku's crying.

"Everyone go outside. Meet me at Ground Beta, in your gym uniforms," he instructed, "Midoriya, stay behind."

Izuku had really hoped that would be the end of it. Maybe he should just pack his bag and leave. He would likely be expelled anyway, and he'd like to have at least a little pride left. 

Everyone filed out of the room, glaring at Izuku none-too-subtly, whispering about how they hoped he'd be expelled. Izuku sat at his desk for a long moment, trying to gather his remaining tears, and clear his face of this interaction.

Surely he would walk away expelled. Surely this was the end of his hero student career. Mr Aizawa had already demonstrated that he was not a very forgiving man, and this certainly ranked in the 'I Can't Let This Slide' compartment. Izuku told himself that he would work on how often he spoke without thinking. One would think he'd have that skill already, considering the number of beatings he'd been given in his fifteen years of life. 

Mr Aizawa was also a very silent person. He moved without a sound, and he spoke with not a shout in sight. He sat at his desk, quietly shuffling some papers around, and Izuku felt like a man marching towards death. 

"Do you want to tell me what happened," Mr Aizawa finally asked, "Or do you want me to guess?"

"I… I don't understand the question, sir."

"Let me rephrase that. Why do you think Quirklessness would be an issue?" He asked calmly. His tone took on a quality that Izuku didn't expect. It was less of a reprimand, more persuading, "Because if you'll remember, UA accepts Quirkless students, now. We are not a discriminatory school."

'I know,' Izuku thought, 'that's part of why I wanted to come.'

He looked at Mr Aizawa with no small amount of hesitation and worry. Today was the day he ruined his own life. 

"Please answer my question, Midoriya," he said, his previously gentle tone falling away, and the way he phrased it sounded less like asking and more like telling. He was ordering Midoriya to talk to him.

"I-I just thought that it would be like my old schools, a-and… not be very kind towards them," Izuku said, looking away from Mr Aizawa. He said "them" like he wasn't one of them. He figured it would help one of his cases. But not the one that mattered.

"Okay then. You aren't our first bigoted student–"

"How can I be bigoted if Quirklessness was my entire life?" Izuku interrupted, standing from his desk, and glaring at Mr Aizawa. The man looked stunned, watching Izuku with a careful expression that he had never seen before. It was neither negative nor positive. In fact, Izuku would describe the expression as completely neutral.

"Do you have further explanation, or am I supposed to leave it at that?" Mr Aizawa asked in that same not-quite-asking tone. 

Izuku didn't know how much he could tell him without telling him. How much could he tell, that would be the truth, without giving another person the burden of the secret?

He decided it would be best if he just went with the metaphorical flow. The river of what should be an easy guide through this conversation felt like jagged rocks and quicksand, dragging him down, and scraping him up, and this secret hurts and that's why he can't tell anyone.

All Might will be so disappointed in him. Izuku might end up having to tell Mr Aizawa their secret just to dig himself out of the grave of the shameful. He had just ruined everything. 

"Well?"

"With all due respect, sir, no," Izuku said, painfully aware that this might be the last thing he ever does, "I'm not sure I can trust you, yet."

"Was there something I did to make you lose that trust?" The hero asked. 

Izuku really didn't know if he could answer that question either, and he was starting to feel like an idiot. A stupid, brainless, Quirkless idiot, and there was nothing he could do to change that. 

"No. Yes, but no. I had a pretty good idea of you before I came to this school, and then the vision of purity and hope was broken when you said I was useless. Just like every other fucking teacher I've ever had because I was different." Izuku spat. Mr Aizawa remained in his seat, while Izuku stood and finally expressed his feelings, "I will never be good enough for this fucking world. You don't get a Quirk, Izuku, now you're useless and you'll never amount to anything, and you're perfect fucking potential is ruined because of a fucking joint in my big fucking toe. Now– oho, now you have a Quirk! And it's a damn cool one too! But no. You don't know how to use it because you got it when you were fifteen– and now I'm regularly breaking my bones and getting reprimanded by my teacher that I looked up to for most of my life. 

"Did you know that I found you because you fight Quirkless? Did you know that that's all the hope I had in this god-forsaken world? There was someone like me out there, or almost, and he is a Pro-fucking-Hero. Never meet your heroes, they always say! Well, did anyone consider that that's solid advice? My Idol, my goal, my dream, Mr Number-fucking-One also thought of me the way you do. Useless. I'll never be a hero. I shouldn't have enrolled here! I'm a spoiled brat with a power comparable to All Might! But that's not enough for the world, is it? I'll never be anything. I'm stuck. In a fucking loop. I'm Quirkless? Worthless. With a Quirk? Useless. It's always the same."

Well, if he was going to be expelled anyways, might as well make a bang. He didn't like the guy that sat behind him anyways. M… Mineta? That sounded right.

"You're my favorite hero, Eraserhead. You're incredible," Izuku said, finally finishing, "I really admire you. But why am I not good enough for you?"

Aizawa looked at him with that very same neutral expression. He seemed to be waiting until he was absolutely sure Izuku was finished, and then he said, "Are you saying all this against me, or against everyone? I'd like to address as many issues as possible, and I'll be talking about some of the other things you've mentioned, but is there someone you'd be more comfortable with talking to?"

A flash of imaginary heat and light crossed Izuku's mind, an image of pale green and a sense of loneliness, and blond hair, a winning smile and 'no, you can never be a hero as you are', and Izuku shook his head. Regardless of how much pain the heroes have caused him, Eraserhead was the best one he could go to about this, "I can't talk to anyone else."

"Okay, so after the lesson, after school, you can meet me back here, and we can talk about this," Mr Aizawa said calmly, adjusting his capture scarf on his shoulders, and holding the classroom door open for Izuku.

"I thought I was going to be expelled," Izuku admitted, "That's why I cursed a lot."

"It was quite the informative speech," Mr Aizawa hummed thoughtfully, "No, I will not be expelling you. Quirklessness really isn't an issue here. I'll talk to the class about toning it down."

"Thank you, sir," Izuku replied with a suspiciously thick voice.

Mr Aizawa cared? He sat, and he listened while Izuku ranted and yelled, and cursed at him. He did nothing. He let Izuku tire himself out, and tried to fix the problem after that.

Too bad ten years of tragedy broke the best kinds of people beyond repair. 

The rest of the day was fine. It was, dare he say it, normal. His peers pretended he wasn't, and that was fine, because he was still kind of holding onto getting expelled because he was a dumbass in front of the entire class. Sparring came and went. He was pretty sure some of the classmates he was paired up with were going a little harder than necessary, and that was weird, but not entirely unexpected. The weirdest part of all of it is that they're defending against Izuku, not offending. They're trying to defend the minority, instead of the other way around. 

But it seems Aizawa did actually speak to them, because not once did he hear 'why isn't he gone yet', like he did every day, about the kid that sits behind him. The one that peeks up skirts.

Spending so much time around people that obviously didn't like him was such a normal feeling to Izuku, it was unnerving to be aware of it. He was starting to dread going back to Mr Aizawa's office after school, considering how likely his classmates were to advocate against his staying. Does Shiketsu accept Quirkless kids? Should that even matter if he's not Quirkless anymore? Will any other hero school take kids so late? It has been a week and a half since school started.

This was going to be a long day. 

"Midoriya," Aizawa called just after the bell rang, and the students were (supposed to be) free to go. He watched his classmates file out of the room one by one, and each one gave him some sort of glare on the way out. He felt like he was an ant waiting for the boot that would eventually come to crush it, waiting for a death so unavoidable it was almost painful. He had no idea how Mr Aizawa would react to Izuku's previous place in the world.

"Come sit up here," he said, motioning to a little spinny chair on the other side of his desk, "We can talk about this."

Izuku reluctantly packed his bag, and dropped into the little seat, sighing heavily. This conversation was either about to add or subtract a huge weight from Izuku's chest, depending on whether or not he was being truthful. Izuku decided to give him an instant out, a get out of jail free card, if you will, "Look, if you want to just expel me, I'll go. Just… just to make it easier on everyone."

"I am not going to expel you," his teacher said calmly, watching Izuku intently, with the power of a thousand gods behind his stare, "I'm just trying to understand. Can you start from the beginning?"

"Do you remember Hero Week 2113? I was eight, at the time." Izuku asked, "You appeared as a guest on Present Mic's radio show, and talked to a kid about hero and villain, good and bad, Quirk and Quirkless."

"I can't say that it's overly familiar, no," he said. Izuku began to absently think about how the same event can differ effects on people. That day was everything to Izuku, a testament to everything he could achieve with the right support, but to Mr Aizawa it was just another day.

He spent most of his life on the edge of what's real and fake, only ever seeing the coattails of everyone else's success, living just barely out of the shadows of being better than dirt. Eraserhead was the very first hero to show unwavering support towards him in particular, and now he was fighting him over the very same subject.

"That day was my entire world. I had already had my share of struggles at that point, being the only Quirkless child in the entire region. It meant everything to me, having a hero out there that supported me, because Quirks didn't matter to him."

Eraserhead just looked confused. Still wasn't clicking, Izuku guessed, "Let's start from the beginning. My name is Midoriya Izuku, and at five years old, I was diagnosed with Quirklessness. Since then, it has been a defining trait in my life, people stopped and stared, they whispered, and sometimes I could hear them. Sometimes words were the least of my worries. They hit, burned, hurt me. Scratched, maimed, punished. All because of the Red Shoe Theory. Do you get it now, Mr Aizawa? I'm Quirkless.

I am the expectation. I am the example. I am what everyone makes, and what everyone fears. I am the end of the line. And guess what? After all that, I am Lucky. I'm one of very few Quirkless people left, because people like Bakugou exist, and drive them to one of two things, or both at once."

"And what are those two things?"

"SED, or Surreal Expectation Disorder. It's a mental illness found often in Quirkless people, or people that have experienced a great loss. Wanna take a guess at one of the symptoms? I'll give you a hint: it's the other thing bullies cause," Izuku shrugged, "or at least the bullies that attack my kind of people."

Mr Aizawa looked at him with curiosity for a while, both staying silent, Aizawa because he probably didn't know, and Izuku because he wanted him to guess. He wanted him to look at Izuku and tell him what he thinks Quirkless people go through on the regular.

Eventually, Mr Aizawa's face darkened with realization.

"Suicide." Izuku finished, when he was sure Aizawa knew what he was talking about, "That is a reality that I, and a multitude of others go through for the rest of our lives. Some develop SED, and put their lives on the line to develop a Quirk so they can be equal. The thing about putting your life in danger is just that. Sometimes the fragile thing called Life that is so precious to those clinging to existence just slips away while you aren't looking."

"Force Manifested Quirks," Mr Aizawa said woefully, clasping his hands in front of his face as he came to terms with this, "I thought that that theory still needed to be proven…"

"Consider it done, sir," Izuku smiled, "I cannot divulge my exact Quirk parameters without consulting All Might first, but there you have it! My whole life story, told in one day."

He sat quietly and twiddled his thumbs, watching Aizawa with a neutral smile, while he waiting for his sentence. His teacher's response could go many ways. He didn't expect to see his teacher (his favorite hero) get up from his desk, come around to Izuku's side, and give him a hug. 

A hug?

From someone other than his mother?

This was nice.

"I'm so sorry the world treated you so unfairly," he heard Mr Aizawa whisper against his head, still hugging him protectively, "and I'm sorry that I contributed to that when you arrived here at this school."

Izuku didn't think he'd ever get an apology. Like… ever. Seeing his favorite hero, one of his favorite people ever sound so broken while apologizing to Izuku of all people just seemed so bizarre he didn't know what to do besides awkwardly stand in this embrace. 

When Mr Aizawa finally broke the hold he had on Izuku, he sat back down, facing towards him, and taking a deep breath.

"I can let this conversation go, and you can keep living your life pretending like this interaction never happened, or I can bring it up, press charges against some of the people that did this to you. Either way, I won't involve you if you wouldn't like to be."

"That's okay. Whatever you'd like to do, as long as it isn't reveal Midoriya Izuku to be borderline Quirkless," Izuku pointed out. He's far out of the ballpark of Don't Tell Him Everything, and after the hug all of his emotions were kind of mushy, so, "Seriously anything is fine as long as it's not that."

"I'll talk to your classmates about treating you equally. They believed themselves to be defending the Quirkless people of the world."

"No, no, I get that," Izuku huffed, "There will always be someone in the world that dislikes you. I'm sure they'll find a new reason to do so when this one crumbles. Especially one person in particular," he coughed fakely into his elbow, "Bakugou."

"Did Bakugou do something to you," Mr Aizawa asked with unclassifiable anger, "Because I'll drop him if he's doing something he shouldn't."

"Nah," he dismissed with dishonesty, "He didn't do anything. Don't worry about it."

"Okay. I'll work on what to do. You're free to go, Midoriya."

Izuku nodded respectfully, and grabbed his bag. 

He walked home, with disbelief squeezing his chest unpleasantly. Had that really been one day? It felt like an eternity. What he thought would have been a walk of shame after having been expelled from the coolest place in Japan was actually a march of joy, with a skip in his step. 

He truly had people, now. He always had his mother, and he always had the distant hope that the heroes would be kindly, like Eraserhead, who actually was! After the reveal, but he was respectful before then, and gave him a hug like he needed one (he did, deep down. He really needed that hug. Or maybe just the knowledge that someone was there). He swore, he'd always look up to Eraserhead.

All Might, not so much. The man was okay, but he didnt have the same surreptitious valor that Eraserhead did, despite Izuku thoroughly wishing he did. He would be so much easier to look up to heroes if they had the gallant audacity that the greats had. But they didn't. So Izuku was left admiring Eraserhead, and really only him.

Eraserhead, who listened to him while he told his story, and the unsteady moments after that when he gave Izuku a solution to his problem. Eraserhead who would help.

Eraserhead the hero.

Maybe he didn't ruin his own life after all.