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“Alright class, before we begin I want to introduce a new transfer student. Please be patient, Lee-san is still learning Japanese, so try not to overwhelm her.”
Deku blinked, dragging his brain back from the comfortable fog he lived in during the school day at the announcement. This was Different, and any deviation from the norm needed to be analyzed arguably more closely than his beloved heroes, lest he get caught off guard and pay the price. He didn’t move from where he was slumped over his desk, but his eyes sharpened, focusing on the door at the front of the classroom as Sumiroa-sensei slid it open and motioned someone inside. A tall (though not mutant-quirk tall) student entered, her slouched posture and disheveled appearance showing she either didn’t notice or didn’t care about the twist of disapproval on Sumiroa-sensei’s face.
Almost immediately, Izuku noticed something strange. Despite Sensei introducing their new classmate as a girl (A girl!! That didn’t know he was—!!), she was quite obviously wearing the boy’s uniform, albeit with the jacket unbuttoned and much sloppier than even Kacchan dared attempt. He narrowed his eyes, deciding to withhold judgment for now, instead focusing on giving them a quick scan for obvious quirk traits. Nothing stood out, though it was hard to get an accurate read from way in the back. They raised their hand in greeting, face set in a stony, impassive glare as they looked over the class. For a second, Dek....Izuku felt himself freeze, pinned under that cold glare, before the transfer’s gaze moved on.
“Yo. My name is Ty....shit. Lee Tyler,” they said, voice slow and heavily accented. They stumbled for a second over the introduction, probably due to naming conventions being switched around in their country. They wrote their name on the board, first in English (to Sensei’s annoyance), before copying it in very hesitant katakana underneath. It wasn’t precisely how you’d write it, but close enough. If he could manage to make friends with Lee-san without getting outed as a deku, he’d offer to tutor them. Hopefully they’d appreciate the help, instead of getting mad. “Nice to meet you,” they finished clumsily, nodding their head in a sort of pseudo-bow and looking incredibly uncomfortable. Honestly, Izuku could relate. Public speaking was the worst.
They leaned over to Sensei and murmured something, gesturing towards the room with one hand while the other clutched the strap of their bag tightly. Sensei nodded, peering at the room himself as Izuku tried to make himself smaller. As much as he wanted to try and make a friend, he wanted it to be on his own terms. Getting put next to Lee-san would be way too much, especially if things turned hostile. Unfortunately, all the gods were apparently leaving him on voicemail, and the only open seat was the one Hibana-san used to sit in before her family moved.
Directly to his right.
“You’ll be sitting next to D....Midoriya. Midoriya, raise your hand!” Sensei said, raising his voice and addressing Izuku. Reluctantly, he raised his hand and sat up, keeping his head down. He watched from beneath his bangs as Lee-san studied him, tilting their head slightly. As soon as they started approaching (what a strange gait, is it quirk-related? An injury? Still no evidence of any mutations, an emitter? Mental?), he put his hand down and went back to trying to be invisible. They sat heavily in the desk beside him, shoving their bag under the desk and hooking one foot through the strap, a motion so practiced it was almost casual. Beyond that, it was familiar.
After all, Deku never hung his bag on the desk, either.
He turned one ear back to Sensei as he finished homeroom announcements, ending it with a period of self-study so they could get to know their new classmate a bit before their next class. As soon as he dismissed them, the room turned on Lee-san (and by extension, Izuku) like a swarm of piranhas. To their credit, they didn’t look afraid, at least not visibly. Izuku noticed (he always noticed) the tension in their shoulders, though. The way they went spring-tight when the attention turned on them, like they were ready to run at a moment’s notice, even while their face was still that same cool stare from earlier. Honestly, he was almost envious. It’d be nice to have a face that never emoted when he was terrified, rather than one that cried at the drop of a hat. Maybe just for a little bit, to see what it was like, you know?
He flinched when someone, eager to get their answers, shoved his desk a little too hard and broke his train of thought. There was a crowd around Lee-san’s desk now, even with the noticeable berth they were giving his own desk, like he had something contagious. A pang of irritation twisted in his chest before he shoved it down with ruthless efficiency, because what kind of hero was bitter and angry towards the people around him? He watched them shout questions at Lee-san, the poor transfer looking more and more overwhelmed as they tried their best to answer them with their limited grasp on the language. Finally, a loud, familiar explosion cracked, cutting through the chatter and tearing a flinch from both himself and Lee-san, though theirs was more of an aborted twitch and a jumping of the muscle in their cheek.
“What’s your Quirk?” Kacchan demanded, voice just as loud as everyone else’s combined. Lee-san’s brow furrowed in confusion, mouthing the word to themself like they didn’t get it.
“Quirk? Sorry, what do you mean by ‘Quirk’?” they asked, tilting their head. Kacchan looked absolutely livid, so Izuku decided to step in before things could get ugly. He remembered from an old All Might interview that they called Quirks something different in English, so hopefully it was just a translation issue.
“U-Um! ‘Quirk’ is the same thing as ‘Metahuman Ability’. He is asking what your Ability is,” he cut in, stumbling over his words almost as much as Lee-san stumbled over theirs. He knew he was near-conversational, thanks to his All Might obsession and wish to converse with his Dad back in the day, but nerves had his tongue feeling three sizes too big as everyone turned to look at him. He kept his eyes on Lee-san and tried to ignore the glare burning a hole in the side of his head, promising pain for daring to show off during class, even if it wasn’t technically a lesson.
It was worth it for the look of pure relief that shone in Lee-san’s eyes though, shoulders relaxing just a little as they turned to face him more fully. “You are....Midoriya, right?” they asked. He nodded stiffly, jaw clamping shut as the remnants of his bravery fled. “Thanks. You know English? That’s a weight off my shoulders, I only caught like three words of what these guys were saying. Hey, are you okay?” they said, raring off in English and only stopping when they noticed him struggling slightly. It was strange hearing them speak so casually after they’d been formal all class, but he supposed it was different in your native language.
Any answer he could’ve given was cut off by another firecracker pop and a squeak as Kacchan demanded their attention again. “Oi, don’t ignore me! Answer the question, extra! Quirk! What is it!” he snapped, sounding remarkably like a barking dog. Lee-san seemed to agree, if the unamused look was any indication.
“Why?” they asked. “You are not a friend.” A smug, almost dangerous grin tugged at their lips, not a single bit of mirth reaching their ice cold eyes. Then, with almost perfect pronunciation, they slowly and clearly enunciated “Fuck you,” before settling back in their seat, looking extremely proud of themself.
The room went silent.
Izuku barely dared to breathe. In less than ten minutes, Lee-san had done what nobody had dared since pre-school. Not only had they spoken to Izuku, Deku, over Kacchan, they then turned around and told him no, and insulted him! To his face! Honestly, if he weren’t too busy picking out their funeral flowers, he’d be begging for them to teach him even a scrap of their confidence.
He was so deep in his panic that it took him a moment to realize that Lee-san was trying to get his attention again, calls of his name and gentle nudges just barely managing to break through the spiral he was trapped in. “Hey, Mido.” Izuku felt himself go bright red. Nicknames already?! “Not gonna lie, I mostly said that because I don’t know how to answer in Japanese. Help?” they said sheepishly, leaning over to his desk to keep the conversation private while keeping one eye on the still-stunned Kacchan.
Unfortunately, this seemed to be the last straw for Kacchan’s patience. With a roar of rage, he slammed his palms on the surface of Izuku’s desk, scorch marks and burnt sugar-soot joining their legion of identical brothers as Kacchan’s rage exploded. “Fucking Deku, you put that extra up to that shit, didn’t you?!” he snarled, towering over him and practically blowing smoke out of his nostrils in his anger. Deku’s denials were ignored, as they always were, only earning him more soot-stains that Sensei was sure to make him scrub in lunch detention. Would it be causing a disturbance this time, or would it be vandalizing school property again, despite him having literally no possible way to cause hand-shaped scorch marks on his desk?
Deku squeezed his eyes shut as Kacchan lunged for him, bracing for the searing pain of yet another explosion against his skin, but the expected hand twisting in his collar never came. He cracked one eye open, before both shot wide in awe and panic as Lee-san’s back filled his vision, one smoking fist caught in their palm. “Hey, Mido, ‘Ability’ is ‘Quirk’, right?” they said lowly, glancing back at him like they weren’t holding a literal bomb in one hand. He nodded warily, not sure where they were going with this. That same grin from earlier showed up again, though it looked much less dangerous when he could see a spark of hidden mischief in their golden eyes.
“Okay,” they said, turning their attention back to Kacchan and going cold again. “You....shut your mouth,” they spat. Izuku’s eyes widened, heart stuttering at the complete character change. Omae?! Where did they even learn to talk like that?! “My ‘Quirk’? No ‘Quirk’,” they said, a feral grin on their lips as their eyes lit up with a promise of violence. “I’m ‘baseline’, a human without a ‘Quirk’. Your.....bomb hands? It’s not scary. You’re not scary. Go away,” they said firmly.
Honestly, even the accent and incorrect, stumbling vocabulary couldn’t detract from their message. Izuku could feel his eyes welling up just with the knowledge that he wasn’t alone. He wasn’t the only Quirkless.....no, what had Lee-san called it? ‘Baseline’? He liked that a lot better, honestly. It felt less like he lacked something, and more like everyone else just had something extra. Then and there, he decided he was going to be Lee-san’s friend. No matter what.
Kacchan growled again, trying to attack Lee-san with a shout about “two Quirkless losers”, but Lee-san shut that down with a quick jab to his chest. He choked on his own scream of rage, gasping for breath as they followed up by twisting his arm in such a way that he’d have to yield or risk either breaking his wrist or blowing his arm off if he tried to struggle. “I’ll give him points for persistence, but at this point you would think he’d try a new strategy....” Lee-san muttered under their breath, rolling their eyes. At this point, the next teacher had come in from the break room, ending the chaos with one loud clap of the eraser to the chalkboard.
The crowd scattered, leaving Lee-san and Kacchan in plain view of the front. Izuku winced internally, knowing that Kamabisushii-sensei was one of the worst when it came to fights. Unfortunately for Lee-san’s record, she was also one of the worst when it came to making sure the Quirkless rejects ‘knew their place’; right at the bottom.
Sure enough, the sight of Aldera’s ‘star pupil’ being pinned to a desk (and not just any desk, Deku’s desk) in a bastardized arm lock by a disheveled, unfamiliar student immediately set her off. “Lee-san!” she shrieked, incensed. “Release Bakugou-kun right this instant!” she snapped, face starting to go red. Lee-san glanced at him, raising an eyebrow.
“She, ah....wants you to let him go....” Izuku said weakly, nodding towards Kamabisushii-sensei with a pained grimace. Lee-san frowned, glancing between Izuku, Sensei, and Kacchan.
“Hate to put you in a tight spot Mido, but I don’t know how to say it. Mind asking her what the punishment they plan on giving Bomb Boy here is?” they asked lowly. Izuku paled, stiffening slightly. “I know I’ll get one too, fighting always does. He did attack first though, and from what I saw when I skimmed Ability-Usage laws, using your Ability in a public space is a crime. Even if it wasn’t, using it to attack another person with the intent to harm definitely is,” they added. Izuku blinked, somehow not having expected them to have read the Japanese Quirk legislation. Plus.....a crime? Really? Even in schools? This was the first he was hearing about this.
“O-Okay.....” he whispered, plastering a shaky smile on his face to hide his nerves. Heart steeled behind his All Might facade, he turned back to the front. “U-um, Kamabisushii-sensei? Lee-san isn’t very....fluent in Japanese yet, so they asked me to translate,” he started, taking a deep breath. “T-They wanted to...um....to know what the consequences for B-Bakugou-kun would be? I-In addition to their own,” he stuttered out, trying to ignore how weird it was to refer to Kacchan by his family name. He glanced back at Lee-san, seeing them give him an encouraging nod. “B-Bakugou-kun.....did attack first...” he added, before the pressure got to be too much and he wilted back into his seat, trying not to hyperventilate. Lee-san gave him an encouraging nudge, still holding Kacchan’s face to his desk.
“Good job, Mido,” they murmured, eyes crinkling slightly at the corners before they went back to watching Sensei like a hawk. A flicker of pride curled in his chest, the approval from a classmate a rare and precious treasure that he grabbed with both selfish hands to hold tight and protect. Not even Sensei looking like he’d just stood up and slapped her could kill it, though it did take one hell of a hit from the poisonous glare she sent his way.
“For being attacked?! I’m not in the habit of punishing promising students for being assaulted,” she spit, the hidden meaning clear as glass. Promising students meant Kacchan, the school’s prized hero-hopeful. Promising students did not mean the violent, barely-verbal transfer or him, the Useless Deku. “You have no proof other than your word that Bakugou-kun attacked first, Midoriya-kun. Don’t make this worse on yourselves. Call off Lee-san, and take your seats. Detention, both of you,” she snapped. Deku felt the fire dull a little more, shoulders curling inward like he could protect himself from her words. Of course. He didn’t even do anything, and he got another detention. “Don’t think I don’t see those marks on your desk either, Midoriya. Do I need to give you another mark for vandalism?”
He shook his head mutely, tugging at Lee-san’s hands gently. The fog was starting to creep back in, burying the noise in a wave of ringing static. They shot him a questioning look, but he refused to meet their eyes, just tugging harder. Thankfully, they seemed to get the memo, releasing Kacchan with nothing more than their own dark glare. He stormed off back to his own desk, unwilling to continue the fight now that a teacher was in the room and that one of his targets had proven capable of fighting back.
The rest of class passed in a haze, the lecture entering his ears and spilling out on his notes without him actually absorbing any of it, as usual. He felt eyes on him, but ignored it with the ease of long hours of practice. The stare felt Different, and Different was never good. In the passing period, before he could trade out notebooks, a scrap of paper with shaky hiragana was slid onto his desk. He paused, blinking at the note in confusion. It wasn’t the usual, no harsh strokes meant to disguise handwriting, no cruel insults meant to sink their barbs and teeth into his mind on an already rotten day, just surprisingly neat pencil strokes on torn-out note paper.
‘Mido, are you okay?’
He glanced over out of the corner of his eye, spotting Lee-san giving him a worried look. Or, what he guessed was a worried look. Really, the other was stupidly hard to read, the only difference the slight tilt of their head in his direction and the tension in their jaw. He returned the look with a shaky smile, but all that got him was a furrowed brow. “I’ll be fine,” he said under his breath, smile firmer, but no less plastic. He could see them mouthing ‘naru?’ under their breath, likely confused about the tense. They puzzled it out for a moment longer before nodding, turning back to him.
“Mido is not okay, but future Mido will be....?” they asked, tilting their head. Izuku blinked, taking a moment to parse out that absolute monstrosity of a sentence. There were only about a total of five or six words in the entire thing, stitched together in the most cobbled-together sentence he’d ever had the misfortune of hearing, with barely any proper verbiage or grammar to be heard. And yet....considering it came from someone who didn’t even know the verb ‘will be’, who didn’t know the kanji of a grade schooler, yet still managed to put together a question just to ask how he was feeling? Out of genuine concern? He huffed out a laugh, smile softening into something a little more real.
“Yeah, future Mido will be fine,” he agreed, the familiar prickle of tears stinging at his eyes. A shy, soft smile flickered over Lee-san’s face, a fragile, awkward thing, quickly shuttered away when the next teacher walked in. Suddenly, lunch detention didn’t seem quite so bad after all.
After all, he wouldn’t be spending it alone this time.