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When Mezo Shoji was five years old, his father casually asked if he wanted a different quirk. Dad said that it would look suspicious to change if he got any older. But at his age even fairly large shifts in someone’s mutation could be dismissed as part of the childhood developmental process. Dad used a bunch of big, strange words.
At age five, Mezo had only just started to develop a second set of arms. In their rural town, he stood out. The teachers looked at him differently. A couple children at school had told him their parents had ordered them to stop playing with him. So yes, he had the inkling that there was something unacceptable about his quirk.
Mezo had been raised by his single father in a house by the river, outside of town. His father was often gone on business trips. During these periods, Mezo was left alone, except for the shadow-faced butler Kurogiri delivering food and taking him to school. Mezo valued any chance at socializing with other people, so he’d never told his father about the trouble at school for fear he’d be withdrawn. Since Mezo had been forced to more-or-less raise himself, he’d grown up too fast. He believed his father had to be away so much because of the financial strain of raising a child alone. He also believed that his father asked if he wanted a different quirk out of guilt, knowing how hard the world could be for heteromorphs. So Mezo smiled and said he loved his current quirk.
Dad patted him on the head and said he had a strong ability, one that would let him survive in dangerous situations. They did not talk about it again.
Around when Mezo turned nine years old, his father was severely injured. According to Kurogiri, it had been a work accident. When Mezo visited the hospital, his poor dad looked closer to dead than alive. The upper half of his head had been replaced with scar tissue. Equipment covered his body. Needles stuck out everywhere. Mezo shuddered in sympathetic pain just looking at him.
It turned out Mezo’s father had been making large donations to the town. After the accident, the money stopped. As a result, the villagers’ tolerance for Mezo also stopped.
When people threw rocks and clods of dirt at Mezo, he washed his clothing alone in secret. Baggy clothing hid the bruises. He stopped going to school. He only went to town to buy groceries. If he didn’t interact with anyone, they were less likely to beat him. He’d kept his mouth shut for so long, he nearly forgot how to talk. There was no one left to talk to him anymore, with his father in the hospital and Kurogiri busy with tasks for the doctor. Mezo only had the money left on his bank card to feed himself—a substantial sum, but he assumed it could not be replaced if it ran out. With his father hanging between life and death and the future hospital bills unknown, Mezo didn’t want to bother Kurogiri for money. He tried to make himself invisible to both the villagers and his father’s friends.
Invisibility, that would have been a nice quirk. If only Mezo could fade away and cease being trouble to anyone. Then no one would beat him. The pain in his body and loneliness in his heart would vanish like rain drops in the sun.
Sometimes when the other children went to play at the river, Mezo lurked out of sight and listened. He knew they’d be creeped out and hit him if they caught him. But Mezo went entire months without talking to a single other person. The solitude was about to drive him insane. Even just overhearing their laughter eased a little of his loneliness.
When the laughter turned into screaming, Mezo ran down the hill to the river bank. A little girl, maybe four or five years old, had gotten swept away in the river.
Mezo sprang into action. Using his extra arms, he latched onto a rock with one hand and the girl with another.
Even after she was safely on the bank, the girl wept. Mezo kept telling her that she was safe now. It took him a while to realize she was screaming at the sight of his face. Then he slunk back home.
That night, Mezo woke up to torches glowing outside his house. Because he was still very young, he thought they’d come to thank him for saving the girl. Perhaps now he’d become a hero, he’d be accepted by the village. It worked like that in his TV shows. Mezo put on his coat and went outside.
The flickering torches cast strange shapes on the villagers faces. They carried farming implements. One man had a shotgun. He snarled, “How dare someone with dirty blood like you put your ugly octopi hands on my daughter?”
Mezo backed away. “I-I only tried to save her.” His voice sounded rusty with disuse. He slammed the door and locked it.
The villagers busted the door down. Then they tied a rope around Mezo and dragged him around the forest. When he tried to escape, they beat him. He only stopped screaming when the blood chocked his mouth.
Mezo woke up lying in bed. He immediately started sobbing from relief, because this meant he was safe.
Dad took his hand. Firmly, he said, “They can’t hurt you any longer. You’re safe. You did well to survive.”
Mezo forced himself to stop crying, because he didn’t want to be any trouble for his poor, injured father. Even the tiny bit of praise felt like a sip of water after he’d been dehydrated. He sniffled periodically, clinging to his father’s hand. His entire face hurt. He could feel the beginnings of scars tugging at his mouth with each sound he made. Yet he couldn’t stop the small sobs.
Patting his son’s white locks, Dad said, “I’m sorry I didn’t protect you while I was injured. This never should have happened. I always swore that my son would have a better life than I did, that you would never have to fight for your life against bigots—” His grip on Mezo’s hair tightened to the point of painfulness.
“Ow,” Mezo said softly.
“Sorry.” Dad released him. “From now on, I’ll do a better job protecting you. Your new home is safe.”
Mezo looked around. He appeared to be inside a small square room with steel walls and no doorknob. “It looks very…boring.”
“We’ll do a better job decorating later,” Dad said. “This place is the safest in the world.”
Mezo shrugged, too tired to care (and he wouldn’t have even been able to imagine staying inside the vault for years, not back then.) “I’m glad you’re awake, Dad.”
“You have scars,” Dad whispered, touching his son’s face, grief and range mingled together in his voice.
Mezo said, “We’ll match.”
His dad smiled. “You’re a brave kid. I have a gift for you. Something to make you feel better about leaving that dreadful village behind.”
For the first time, Mezo noticed the series of wrapped packages against the wall, dozens of them. His father had always been generous with gifts, his way of making up for his physical absence. Mezo was too tired to feel curious what might be inside. But he’d always put other’s feelings above his own, so he said, “Thank you, Dad” and held out his arms.
The package felt heavy. Something wet and red leaked out of the bottom. It felt wrong. A suspicion tugged at him, one he did not want to believe. Pins and needles crawling down his spine, Mezo quickly pulled off the paper and opened the box.
His screams echoed around the vault.
Every time Mezo Shoji put on his U.A. uniform, he could barely believe he was here, in the number one hero school in Japan. If not for Kurogiri taking pity on him, he’d still be locked up in that dark vault. Here, he finally had a chance to make a difference and fight against his father.
Mezo jumped a little whenever his classmates talked to him. He usually replied using the mouths on his hands. He’d fallen out of the habit of speaking. Besides, he wore a mask over his face—both to cover his scars and hide how much he looked like All for One.
The other students were nothing but kind and friendly to him. He kept jumping, expecting a blow every time someone reached in his direction, but they only wanted to pat him on the back. It seemed too good to be true.
Never before had Mezo met other heteromorphs. Koji Koda became a good friend. The two of them even talked about their past experiences with bullying.
“You’re amazing, Shoji,” Koda said with a smile. “I think you’re a very strong person, to forgive your bullies even after they left such scars on your face. I don’t know if I could, in your place.”
Mezo only smiled sadly. He didn’t know how to tell Koda the truth. It was easy to forgive people who were already dead.
OMAKE TIME!
All for One: If I could be raised by my mom’s voice in my head, then my son can be raised by phone calls. At least I left him in a nice, safe place without hungry rats.
Mezo: Compared to the other kids in this birthday series who got raised by All for One more hands-on, I’ll take benign neglect.
#
Mezo: I wish I had invisibility.
Toru: No, you don’t.
All for One: I’ll buy an invisibility quirk for my son, then.
Toru: Actually, if you’re willing to give me a different quirk, I agree!
#
All for One: My son was so happy about his new vault and his gift, he was screaming with joy.
Yoichi: WORDS DO NOT SUFFICE FOR HOW MUCH I HATE YOU. YOU ARE A MISERABLE FAILURE AS A BROTHER AND A FATHER.