Chapter Text
Misery loves company, or so they say. She never really bothered to learn what that actually meant, but she figured she had an idea. Her life was the prime example of it, she thought bitterly. No, she didn't find some sort of support group where everyone was miserable together. That would be too easy.
As it turns out, there can never be just one thing.
Izuku Midoriya, Aged 14. She found out early in her life that not all people were born equal. It was a harsh reality made harsher by the genetic lottery known as Quirks. Except that it's exceedingly rare to fail to get even a single lick of profit in this lottery filled with superpowers. It's more fitting to say that the odds are reversed, wherein it's nearly impossible in this day and age to end up broke. Izuku's lottery ticket must have ended up on fire and lost in transit, because that was exactly what happened.
At the age of five, after a year of waiting for her precious Quirk to appear, her mother finally made the executive decision to meet with a doctor. The results weren’t pretty.
“You should give up,” the doctor had said directly to Izuku’s face. “Biologically, it’s impossible for you to have a quirk.” Izuku’s world shattered that day, his smile frozen solid. His eyes filled with unshed tears as he turned to his mother, All Might figurine slipping out of his loose grasp as he sought comfort from the one who had been there for him all his life.
All Inko could do was hug him tight, repeatedly whispering ‘I’m sorry!’ into his ear. Tears finally fell, his smile still frozen. Izuku couldn’t even raise his arms to hug back.
The only thought running through his mind was that’s not what I want to hear, Mom. It’s not what I need to hear. Stop it, please. His silent begging went unheard.
The second revelation was much later, luckily. At least Izuku had some time to get acclimated to her new Quirkless status. At least she could come to grips with being society's trash.
Izuku was twelve years old when he first learned he was gay. It occurred to him in a flash. Even after Kacchan had basically abused him, often verbally and occasionally physically, Izuku still admired the boy. Bakugou had a strength to him, an unwavering confidence that Izuku found awe-inspiring. The greenette found no attraction in the boy's personality nor his tendency to act violent, but Izuku could not deny that the blond had a certain charm to him.
And one day, after a particularly hard day of gym class, Izuku found that he very much appreciated Kacchan’s body as well.
The revelation was incredibly uncomfortable for Izuku. He felt out of his element, scared of the repercussions. He knew that if word were out that he was attracted to men, what little lenience he had in school would be shredded to pieces. He would no longer be able to go anywhere in the school without a jeer or a shove, perhaps even a beatdown. The Quirkless freak, antagonizing society just by being different. By feeling a forbidden attraction to the same sex. By being disgusting.
But he couldn’t help it. The sweat glistening on Bakugou’s stomach, giving his abs a sinful sheen that Izuku secretly delighted in. The way his pecs rippled as he reached for his shirt in the gym locker room. Izuku found it all so enticing and that scared the hell out of him.
And so, he blushed and clammed up. Izuku would never speak of this, to anyone. Ever. If that meant he’d be getting a few more beatings for his occasional silence, that was okay. It was better than the alternative. He would never be able to act on his newfound preferences, anyway. Who would ever give a second look to the Quirkless kid, after all? He knew he'd have no shot with anyone, even if he were straight. No, it was best not to give people more ammunition to use against him.
But why'd Bakugou have to be hot? That was just cruel, giving everything to the one person who didn't need even more to feed his ego.
The third and final revelation Izuku had discovered, was by far the hardest to come to grips with. A year after the teen’s realization that he was gay, came another thought. He may not have been gay after all. Well, to be more precise, he was biologically gay. His male self, finding other males attractive. That certainly classified as gay.
But, as Izuku had slowly come to understand, she was not a boy. Sure, she was born a boy, but there was something off about that thought. For her entire life, she had felt uncomfortable in her own skin. She thought that perhaps it was just growing pains, or that it was just a phase.
Then puberty hit, and as her voice cracked and got slightly lower, as she began to grow her first tufts of facial hair, that dysphoria had strengthened. She felt something was wrong, knew in her heart that she didn’t like being him. His penis felt nasty, out of place. There was an unsettling heaviness to his muscles, his pecs aching to be something more. He tossed and turned, his discomfort in his own skin growing ever stronger.
And what was a person to do in a situation like this? Research, of course. And research he did.
Sweeping through absolutely forums ranging from the ancient 2000’s all the way to the 2160's and discovering a largely underfunded and nearly obsolete field of science, Izuku finally understood. She was a girl.
Science had been lagging behind ever since quirks were a thing. Izuku understood that gender studies were essentially a thing of the past, forgotten about in the haste to learn about the strange new superpowers that appeared so suddenly. And as such, despite there being a blooming understanding and acceptance in the mid 2000's for people of different genders and sexualities, it had quickly reverted to how it was before. No one talked about it, and despite there being a wide variety of unique appearances, gender had been largely untouched. You were either a man or a woman. That was a cold, hard fact. There were exceptions to the rule, accepted in society so long as it was due to a heteromorphic quirk (or any quirk that had to do with biological change), but the concept of an otherwise unchanged person feeling the same way was a foreign one nowadays. And there was no changing it permanently, despite the rare instance of a quirk being able to do so temporarily.
Understanding her newfound self and pronouns versus actually acting on it were two very different things. As much as Izuku wanted to feel more comfortable with herself, she knew that announcing or even subtly hinting at anything of the sorts would be an immediate death sentence for her. Usually she would equate these situations with social suicide: increased bullying, a general disdain for her character, or perhaps even a bit of encouraged hate crimes. But this time, with this big an ordeal, Izuku was worried that the world may very well just... hit a breaking point with her. If she were no longer tolerable, was it just social suicide? Or would her life legitimately be in danger?
The thought absolutely terrified her. She understood what she had to do. And she locked her identity deep inside herself, hopefully to never see the light of day.
,=,e
With each passing week, Izuku began to feel all too uncomfortable in what was supposed to be the comfort of her own home. She was antsy, restless, and fidgety all the time. She was unable to focus on her assignments – not that that mattered, especially in her Quirkist school – and she had a hard time meeting her mother’s eye. She knew her mother was an incredibly caring person, but Izuku was worried about how the sweet woman would react. There was precedent that despite her sweet disposition, Midoriya Inko had no clue how to choose her words. Exhibit A, not supporting Izuku's dreams.
However, this ordeal had been affecting her too much now. She had to get it off her chest. She’d deal with her and her mom’s potential fallout after the fact.
Izuku took a deep breath before she stepped into the apartment, readying herself for what had the potential to be the hardest conversation of her life.
Turning the doorknob slowly, she began to inch open the only thing standing between her and her doom. She began to have second thoughts already. It was inevitable. Her mom would hate her, and she would have to live on the streets, scrounging for foo-
“Oh! Welcome home baby!” her mom called out from the kitchen, a loving lilt in her voice. Izuku’s breath caught.
She had to do this. She had to follow through, and hope for the best. No second guessing now.
“I’m home!” she called back, opening the door the rest of the way. She closed it behind herself and sat down on the step, taking off her shoes and placing them on the shoe rack. She smiled slightly as she saw her cute flower socks on her feet, the one allowance she had given herself. They were well hidden, her uniform pants covering the socks that slid up to her upper calf and her red shoes covering the rest. Her mom still didn’t know she owned them, but she supposed that now would be as good a time as any to show them off.
She inhaled deeply once more and held it, trying to lower her heart rate. She could feel the organ beating against her ribcage like a war drum, thumping a steady rhythm in preparation for battle.
She let go of the breath she was holding and counted, going through some basic anxiety reducing exercises. She could do this.
Izuku stepped into the kitchen, where her mom was humming to herself as she worked. She smiled guiltily, knowing she’d been avoiding the lovely woman who had raised her to be so caring, so gentle. Izuku was just scared, she knew that logically, but she really wanted her mom back.
“Mom… c-can we talk?” Izuku tried to ask confidently, but could only get out a stuttered murmur. Almost instantly, Inko zeroed in on her child with concern clearly visible in her chocolate eyes.
“Of course sweetie, what’s wrong?” she asked almost frantically. Izuku would've laughed, if she weren’t so scared. She knew where she got her own nervous tendencies from, they were staring her in the face.
Her cheeks reddening and her heart pumping once more, Izuku honestly couldn’t be bothered with tact anymore. Her mind was in a complete frenzy. “I-I… I’m a girl!” she shouted, eyes screwed shut. For a moment, all the weight of the world was off her chest. She had just spilled her biggest secret! Maybe it wasn’t so hard after all?
She risked a small peek out of her right eye, just barely opening it enough to gauge the reaction from her mother. The kind woman looked thoughtful.
“Izu, sweetie, you know I’ll love you no matter what. But… are you sure about what you're saying? Should I go get some books about understanding puberty for you?” she asked hesitantly. Izuku’s eyes opened at that, staring at her mother. She didn’t want to believe it, she’d hoped and dreamed that her mother would just accept the truth and wrap her up in a big hug, and they could bond over things like shopping and cooking and other things that she’d wanted to do but was scared to ask her mom because they were seen as girly and she was already bullied enough.
Before she knew it, tears pooled up in her eyes once more. Just like when she was five and Quirkless. Izuku furiously wiped her eyes with her sleeve, sniffling. She took one glance at her mother, still standing there in shock, and bolted. She flew down the hall of their tiny apartment, swinging through the open door to her room and slamming it shut. Ignoring the rattling of the doorframe despite the catharsis of the harsh action, she locked the door and collapsed on her bed, sobbing.
“Of course it was a bad idea dumbass!” she berated herself through her tears. Izuku flashed back to that moment when she was five years old, her mother hugging her and whispering apologies over and over again.
She should’ve expected it, really. She knew her mother pitied her. She knew her mother was just trying to coddle the poor, Quirkless boy because it was some moral obligation.
So why did it hurt so much?
,=,e
Hours had passed, and Izuku was sure by now that it was the middle of the night. There had been a knock on her door at some point, but she dutifully ignored it. There was nothing to talk about. Not with her.
Checking the time on her second-hand phone, Izuku saw that it was 01:30. Way past her mother’s bedtime. That was good, she could go out and get some water. Crying for as long as Izuku had been was a sure way to get dehydrated.
She eased her door open, tiptoeing into the hallway as silently as she could. She tread stealthily along the hard floor, her feet gliding along the tatami mats. As she made her way to the kitchen, she glanced around the open floor plan of the apartment. A part of her had hoped to see her mother on the couch, remorseful or even just contemplative. Perhaps she had misspoken, and merely wanted to look out for Izuku?
But there was nothing. The radio silence was nauseating. Izuku scanned the kitchen, noting the lack of food being left out. She sighed, unsurprised but still somehow upset at the woman. She knew Izuku hadn’t eaten for most of the day, and still decided it was unimportant to feed the Quirkless, transgender, mentally confused boy.
Okay, maybe that was a little harsh. Izuku was still shaken up from their interaction, and was passing judgement unfairly. But why did it still feel so accurate, then?
Shutting down her brain lest she be sick in the kitchen sink, Izuku grabbed a glass and filled it with tap water. She spun around and walked directly back to her room, careful not to spill the full glass in her hands. She didn't bother with sneaking around this time. She couldn't get the sinking feeling out of her gut that her mother was actually not on her side at all, this time.
At least she was a little understanding when Izuku had been diagnosed quirkless. This time, there was no feeling like that. The odds were against the newly gendered girl, and her mother was weighing in on the other side.
As she plopped into her desk chair, it was all Izuku could do to not burst into tears yet again. Instead she tried to distract herself by turning on her computer.
Logging in quickly, Izuku headed straight to HeroTube to catch up on hero news. She saw a new debut, someone who was made of wood? It was a fascinating quirk, and she wondered about the limitations. They could grow out their arms quickly, which was intriguing. Immediately, she thought ‘that’s not how wood works’ because, yeah, wood didn’t just grow like bamboo on steroids. It wasn’t pliable like the new hero, Kamui Woods, was making it seem. Sure, there were certain types of wood that were more fibrous than others and could bend without snapping, but Kamui Woods seemed to be made out of oak wood, considering their appearance. Oak was a sturdy wood, and had a low elasticity.
Izuku was fascinated, and for just a couple of hours was able to forget about her plight. There was a sense of relief, a wonderment that allowed her to just be herself, to focus on something different for a short while and forget her worries.
From that point on, she continued filling out analysis notebooks to occupy her mind. She maintained a distance with Inko, and rarely spoke to the woman. There were a few attempts at conversation, but Inko never brought up the subject of her gender again. The older woman was clearly uncomfortable, incapable of understanding why her little boy was acting out the way he was.
Things were tense at home, but at least she could wear what she wanted to for the most part. Her mother wouldn't buy her any of the skirts she wanted, but there was nothing the woman could do to stop her from doing that on her own. Inko wasn't an abuser, and never would be. Izuku knew her mother was trying her best to be a good mother, and it showed in other aspects of her life. She was just ignorant (and unwilling to learn). The new wardrobe that Izuku had opted to wear around the apartment had a few more skirts, bought with her own money of course, and even a couple of crop tops.
She was still unsure how she felt about exposing even more skin than usual, especially around the navel. But as she looked at herself in the mirror, she decided it felt right. At least, better than the baggy long-sleeved shirts she had worn all her life. That, and whenever she flaunted it at meals she saw her mother get decidedly more nervous. That was a plus in her book.
,=,e
School was the same as ever. She was stuck changing in the boys locker room since she was too scared to come out to anyone anymore, especially not the school in which everyone made it their personal mission to make her time there a living hell. Kaccha- no, Bakugou was still as cruel as ever. She made it a point to agree with him whenever possible to try and keep him off her back. It worked about a quarter of the time, which was better than nothing at all.
Inko never noticed the burn marks that occasionally appeared on her stomach, probably because she was too weirded out by the crop tops. Bakugou would’ve never guessed that the spot he kept choosing because it was hidden would always be on display at home, but she supposed it never really mattered. It was still out of her mother’s sight, and that was fine with her.
Izuku sighed as she got ready for the day, glancing at her appearance in the mirror. Her middle school uniform was still tailored to be the male version, which meant long sleeves and pants. Now, she wasn’t opposed to pants per se, but she was longing to wear a skirt. At least she had the option to wear her thigh-high socks under the uniform, which was reserved for days with no physical education. Luckily that was only three days per week, and today was Tuesday so she was able to get away with it. She found comfort in it, some way of expressing herself even if it wasn’t seen. Just like the panties she occasionally wore around her room when she was feeling particularly dysphoric.
Sighing and putting a small barrette in her hair to push the bangs to the side, she tried giving herself a small smile – ultimately failing, but at least she tried – and picked up her backpack to go to school. Her mom called out a half-hearted goodbye as she left, Izuku waving absentmindedly as she closed the door softly. She seemed to shrink in on herself as she took more steps, trying to become as unassuming as possible.
It worked, for the most part. There were no incidents up to and even including the start of class. Then the train slid right off the rails and crashed into a live bomb, metaphorically speaking.
The teacher began by quieting down the class. He pulled out a number of forms that Izuku had assumed was career interest forms. A while ago they had an assignment to submit applications to their top three high schools, and this was presumably a follow up to that. She couldn’t help but smile, excited to be out of middle school and on to (hopefully) greener pastures.
“These are career forms,” he started, confirming Izuku’s belief. “Now, I would pass these around, but…” the teacher trailed off. Then, without preamble he threw the papers up in the air like confetti. “Of course, with all your great quirks, you all want to be heroes, am I right?!” he called out excitedly.
Instantly, there was pandemonium in the class. People shouting in agreement, letting loose with their quirks. Arguments started over whose quirk was better than whom, where people were applying, etc. The general chaos was disrupted by the loud sound of explosions, which had Izuku’s ears ringing. She sat next to Bakugou, who was never shy about using his obnoxiously noisy quirk. In fact, she was almost certain she was hard of hearing at this point, but she had grown accustomed to reading lips so she figured it’d be fine.
Bakugou was on his feet, explosions popping in his palms threateningly. “Don’t compare me to these shitty extras! I am gonna be the greatest hero there ever was, and ever will be!” he declared to the class. Silence, sweet silence, reigned for all of two seconds before the teacher grinned happily.
“Of course! You’re a shining star, Bakugou! I even see you’re applying to UA’s hero course!” he complimented. Bakugou smirked arrogantly.
“Of course! I aced the practice exam! Obviously I’m gonna make it to the top hero school, where even All Might attended,” he boasted. Izuku rolled her eyes silently behind his back, making sure no one could see the action.
Bakugou was full of himself for sure, but she knew he had the firepower to back it up. Hopefully they would see his personality was terrible for heroism, though.
“Oh yeah, I see here that Midoriya also applied for UA’s hero course! How interesting!” the teacher called out once more, smirking at the quirkless teen. She froze up and panicked for a brief moment, knowing that it was clearly a bait to draw attention to her. And not the good kind, either.
Instantly, Bakugo whirled around to meet her eyes. His expression twisted from that annoyingly attractive smirk to a fearsome snarl, and Izuku was once again reminded why her crush on the kid had been destroyed like roadkill.
“The fuck are you thinking, Deku?!” he screeched out, his explosions once again popping in his palms. If there was one thing Izuku could say about the boy, it’s that he certainly built up an endurance with his quirk that was quite impressive. The boy launched literal explosions like it was nothing, and had been doing it for about a decade at this point. “I’m supposed to be the only one from this shitty hellhole to apply for UA! It’s the perfect origin story of the Number One Hero! Don’t ruin it for me,” he growled.
Stomping over to her desk, he placed a firm hand on her shoulder, not worrying about the pop that came out of that hand nor the yelp she made because of it. Instead, he reached into her backpack to find a notebook labelled ‘Hero Analysis for the Future, Vol. 13’.
Bakugou scowled, flipping through the pages haphazardly. Some of them were already crumpled or torn from the rough treatment. Izuku frowned and tried to reach for the book. “Bakugou, stop! Give that back!” She tried calling out, but Bakugou’s reflexes were easily superior to hers. He grabbed her wrist, giving another light pop and burning her arm as a clear warning sign. She knew he could do much, much worse. The scar on her back had proven that.
“The fuck is this shit? It’s creepy as hell,” he claimed disgustedly. There were detailed notes and sketches on a number of pro heroes as well as two new classmates they had this year. He faked a gag and made a much more powerful explosion, frying nearly half the book. The pages caught fire in his hand and slowly began to burn, and Bakugou smirked sadistically. “There. Much better.”
Izuku wanted to cry. She had spent well over a month on this book alone, and for some reason Bakugou was much more aggressive than normal!
She watched dazedly as he opened the window and tossed the book into a koi pond outside, waterlogging the book but luckily putting out the fire. Izuku hoped there was at least a little bit that was salvageable from it.
Bakugou leaned in close, his lips brushing against her ear. It sent a shiver through her body, but despite the apparent sensuality in the action all she felt was fear.
“You’re not gonna show up to the entrance exams, Deku. And you’re gonna stay out of my way. Got that?” he asked menacingly. She nodded slowly, eyes blank. She felt like her fear had looped in on itself, and suddenly she felt nothing. It was like the eyes on her weren’t there, like Bakugou wasn’t there. Perhaps even she wasn’t there.
Vaguely, Izuku heard Bakugou make some sort of threat about jumping off the roof, but she just sat there motionless, staring off into space. She didn’t even notice when the bell rang and everyone else filtered out of the class.
Suddenly, she was brought back to the present with a rough push on her shoulder. She blinked and refocused in front of her, where the teacher was standing with an annoyed expression.
“Class ended a few minutes ago, young man. You’re lucky today wasn’t a lesson and just a free period, otherwise I’d have to put a failing mark on your grade report. That wouldn’t be good, not when you’re already so close to failing,” he said with false patience. Cringing at how she was addressed, Izuku almost bit back with how that wasn’t her fault, but she was just too tired for the moment. Instead, she settled with a nod.
“Sorry, sir. May I go now?” she asked distantly. The teacher sighed in an aggravated manner, but she didn’t care.
“Yes, you may go. Pay more attention next time, young man.” Wow, it was almost like he knew she hated to be called a man and actively sought to do so. She quickly picked up her back and walked out, almost running to where her notebook was thrown out the window.
Luckily, she found it quickly enough. It was sopping wet and scorched to all hell, but she figured she’d let it dry off anyway. Hopefully she could salvage whatever was still readable and copy it into another notebook.
Carrying the book and occasionally shaking it in a vain attempt to air dry it, Izuku made a bee-line to her house. She was feeling terrible today, and her male uniform felt particularly icky. She wanted to change clothes as soon as possible. Taking a rather sketchy shortcut she seldom used anymore, Izuku tried to cut under a bridge that she always felt was dangerous.
Like some sort of self-fulfilling prophecy, Izuku heard the sewer grate shift behind her. Reacting quickly, she began to run as fast as she could. Which, considering she was banned from her local gym on account of being quirkless, wasn’t very fast. The villain had caught up to her in seconds. She felt slime trail up her pants, her thigh-highs preventing the cold substance from seeping onto her skin. She shivered at the creepy feeling, kicking out her legs in a futile attempt of resistance.
“My lucky day! An invisibility cloak, alone and out of sight!” a slightly garbled voice called out. She turned her head and saw a pile of sludge with eyes staring unflinchingly at her, a hole below the slime in some disgusting approximation of a mouth. The pile moved way too quickly in Izuku’s opinion, slipping across the floor and converging on her body.
Izuku thrashed around, trying in vain to remove the amorphous villain. She wasn’t strong, she wasn’t fast, and she had absolutely no way of fighting back. “Someone hel-” she tried screaming as loud as she could, but opening her mouth was a mistake.
Sludge flooded into her esophagus, causing her to choke instantly. She felt the movement in her throat, widening and blocking off her airway. Her eyes teared up involuntarily, her face reddening from lack of oxygen. Veins were bulging from her neck as she continued to thrash helplessly.
This is it? This is how I die? Her struggles began to die down, her movements slowing. Her vision began darkening
Useless, she lamented as she grasped at her throat. Can’t even fight back. She choked once more.
And to think, Izuku just about gave up her pointless struggle. I never even got to really experience being a girl yet. Tears were flowing freely down her face at that thought.
As her vision fully went dark, she thought she heard something. Or, perhaps someone?
,=,e
She woke up with a start. There was a dreadful taste in her mouth, and somehow she still felt something lodged in her throat. Izuku groaned and twisted her body to lay on her side, before promptly throwing up. It wasn’t flattering, and it certainly didn’t feel very good.
As the sludge flowed from her mouth, however, Izuku couldn’t help but feel relieved. Her throat was clear, and she could finally breathe again. She opened her eyes blearily, glancing around herself and pointedly ignoring the pile of vomit next to her head.
She froze upon seeing the muscled visage of All Might, one of her favorite heroes. She pulled herself off the ground and, though tired, excitedly felt around for the seared notebook she was holding prior. Finding it quickly, she held it out to the man who was smiling a concerned smile.
“A-All Might, sir! Thank you for saving me! Can you please sign my notebook?” she asked quickly. All Might’s booming laugh echoed through the underpass.
“Of course, my boy!” he exclaimed. Izuku almost gaped in awe, ignoring how he called her boy. He didn’t know, she told herself.
He even spoke in bold! He was so cool!
Izuku sobered up quickly, a sudden question searing her mind. As All Might handed her notebook back to her, she quickly fumbled around her words. “B-Before you go, I wa-wanted to ask a question,” she managed to get out quickly enough. All Might began to turn around.
“I apologize my boy, but crime doesn’t sleep!” Izuku knew that, she knew she shouldn’t take up much of the Number One’s time. But she had to ask. So she blurted out her question.
“C-Can someone become a hero w-without a quirk?” All Might froze briefly, pondering the question.
The man didn’t have much time left. He couldn’t give up his secret, but he could at least give a hint, he supposed.
Izuku blushed and looked away as All Might began to lift his shirt. She didn’t expect the man to be so forward! Or… did he like them young? Izuku blanched at that thought.
Oh wait, she thought briefly, almost self-deprecatingly. I have the body of a boy. With a self-deprecating frown, she looked back at the man. And promptly shrieked.
“Aah! Mortal Wound!” she cried out in shock. There, on All Might’s left side, was what appeared to be a fist mark. Well, the center was a fist mark. All around the mark was withered flesh, scar tissue contorting the wound in an awful attempt at recovery.
All Might sighed, lowering his shirt once more. “Indeed, my boy. I got this wound about five years ago, and in the process lost half my stomach and a full lung. I very well could have died that day, and that’s with my incredible strength.” All Might didn’t appear to be boasting about his strength, merely stating a fact. Actually, talking about his wound in conjunction with his strength actually made the man seem almost afraid. Izuku blinked, suddenly terrified.
“Five years ago… but Toxic Chainsaw never even scratched you I thought? That’s the only major fight I can think of,” she muttered. All Might snorted.
“Quite the fanboy, huh? No, even if that brat touched me he would never be able to wound me this badly. This villain was intentionally kept out of the media. It was the hardest fight I’ve ever had, and likely the hardest fight I ever will have.” All Might turned away from Izuku, preparing to leap away. “Being a hero is an absurdly dangerous job. I cannot in good faith tell you that you can be a hero without a Quirk. Dreams are important, but I implore you to be realistic as well,” he finished. With his piece said, All Might blasted away, leaving Izuku to her thoughts.
But Izuku didn’t want to think. She wanted to forget. Her role model, her favorite hero, her inspiration for wanting to be a hero, had just told her that it was impossible. That being a hero was too dangerous. She wanted to scream, to cry out to the world that it was unfair.
She gathered her belongings and sprinted home. She wanted to get off the streets, get out of her horribly itchy male uniform, and she just wanted to be alone.
Yes, this was perhaps the worst day of her life.