Chapter Text
Izuku listened to the quiet hiss of rain on his family’s apartment windows as he sat on the couch. He stared at the trees outside rocking in the wind. His only thought was that it was a bad day for rain. His mother was supposed to be home soon, a birthday cake with twelve candles in hand, telling Izuku how well he had done cleaning the house and making dinner for them.
He made katsudon for the first time and was very proud of how it turned out. He wanted his mother to be proud too. Even though she hadn't actually praised him for anything in years. Or said she loved him. Or showed him affection. Or anything like that. It's not like she didn't love him… right? Did he even need her?
No! Izuku thought as he shook his head, it's not good to think like that! Of course I need her! I’ll just have to clean so well she can't ignore me or my work! It'll be fine!
With that decided, he got up and started a deep clean of almost the entire apartment. It was just Izuku and his mom, Inko, now. His dad walked out when Izuku was diagnosed quirkless at age four.
The doctors said the extra toe joint was definitive. That Izuku would never get a quirk. He would never be a hero like he'd dreamed. No matter how hard he wished and hoped, it would never happen.
He had to wear the special, expensive shoes for quirkless people because he didn't fit in any others. They only came in one color.
Bright, ruby red.
It was like a blinding beacon screaming, “look at me! Look at me! I'm quirkless! I'm so weak! Go ahead and bully me because no one cares about the quirkless!”
The apartment wasn't big, but it's what they had, so they made it work. They lived in one of the lesser cared for neighborhoods of Musutafu. Crime was high, so their doors and windows were always locked.
Their fairly cheap apartment complex was set up like a four-story motel; all of the doors leading straight outside and the stairs and walkways made of concrete. The only outdoor cover they had was the fourth-floor hallway.
Izuku decided on cleaning his bedroom first. It's not like he needed to. He just needed to calm his nerves. So, he made his bed again. Folded the few pairs of clothes he had in his closet again. Cleaned out his old black backpack. Again.
He even cleaned off the hairbrush he had used that morning with a wince. He hated brushing his own hair. It was always painful because he didn’t have the patience to make sure it didn't hurt. It was tolerable when others took the time to do it right though.
He dusted around and reorganized 17 of his notebooks, careful of the ripped pages and missing spines. Those books meant everything to him. They held all of the coded information about the quirks he analyzes. He also moved 3 of his blank notebooks to his desk.
His desk only had the space to house his old, beat-up-but-somehow-still-running laptop. Regardless of its condition, it was still useful.
That laptop was his second most prized possession, beaten out only by his notebooks. He bought the laptop with the spare change his mother gave him for food. He didn't eat much for a few months, but it was so worth it.
Izuku started up the vacuum, noticing how it seemed a little bit quieter than the last time he used it. He shrugged, assuming his mother had just gotten a new model or that he was remembering the volume wrong. After Izuku vacuumed his room, he stepped out into the hallway. He looked across the apartment at the sea of tasks he needed to do to keep his mother happy and sighed.
One thing at a time , he told himself. He zeroed in on the kitchen. He figured reorganizing the tableware and utensils might make his mom happy.
He took everything out of the cabinets and drawers, cleaned all of the dirty dishes, and sorted them into like objects. Izuku put things away, starting with the biggest pots and bowls, down to the smallest spoons and forks.
He wiped the counters, oven, stove and microwave down and mopped the linoleum. He ended up facing away from the rest of the apartment. Remembering how stressed he was earlier, Izuku decided to start cleaning whatever his eyes landed on next.
When he turned around, he spotted the ugly yellow couch his mom bought at a yard sale. He grabbed the vacuum from his room and started tidying the piece of furniture. He fluffed the pillows and vacuumed the fabric.
Since the vacuum was already on, Izuku decided to vacuum the carpet in the living area and the hallway too. It took longer than he expected because the vacuum kept breaking like it always did. Izuku thought this was an upgrade from their old one because of the noise level, but maybe it just had a weaker motor. Or it was the same vacuum and the noise difference really was just in his head.
Once he was finished there, Izuku walked back through the apartment, checking to make sure everything was as clean as possible. His mother would be furious if she found even a speck of dust.
Izuku was pretty sure he already cleaned the bathroom, but he checked inside anyway.
Apparently, he had not cleaned the bathroom.
The plastic shower curtain was disgusting. The toothpaste was open for some reason and had slowly leaked out of its container making a mess on the counter next to the sink. The bathtub and shower had mold in the grout. And the mirror/medicine cabinet above the sink was completely unorganized.
How had he not noticed any of this? Did he leave the toothpaste open? He didn't think so…
He contemplated whether it was necessary to clean the bathroom but ultimately decided to just get it over with. He did not want to risk angering his mother. Well, anymore than she already would be.
He began with the only relatively clean area. The sink. Which wasn't all that clean, but it was the closest to the door and the best place to start.
He cleaned up the toothpaste, wiped down the counter, and cleaned the mirror. When he got to wiping down the sink, he gagged at the state of the drain. He still cleaned it, but he was happy no one was around to see how many times he almost threw up.
After dry heaving for the seventh time, he moved on to the medicine cabinet. Which was awful to clean and organize because of the amount of bottles in it from his mom’s nursing job.
Next was the toilet. It's not like he wanted to clean it, but his mother would not be happy if he cleaned everything else except the toilet. It wasn't as bad as he thought it would be.
When he was done with that, he turned to face the shower and froze. It was so much work. But he needed his mother to be happy today, so he knew he needed to clean everything.
He sighed and got to work. Two hours later Izuku collapsed on the couch, exhausted from cleaning the apartment. He almost got back up when he realized he hadn't cleaned his mothers room.
However, he was never supposed to touch anything in his mother’s room, so he stayed seated. He honestly didn't remember what it looked like.
He apparently wasn't supposed to be this into cleaning. The kids at school called him weird when he told them how fun it was. It's not like they didn't call him that before, but that information still gave them more material to work with.
Now that Izuku had finished cleaning the apartment, he wasn’t sure what to do. He let himself rest a bit longer before he got up and wandered aimlessly through the apartment, looking for ideas. He ended up back in his room.
Maybe he could do another quirk analysis? But who would he do it on? He thought of the nighttime hero that had protected Musutafu for the past few years. He knew next to nothing about the person, but had never really looked for information either.
After a little more consideration, he booted up his laptop, grabbed his most recent notebook and a pen in case he found something, and got to work. He trudged through the usual hero fan sites, trying to find even the slightest bit of information.
Once that proved fruitless, Izuku moved on to checking the Hero Public Safety Commission Pro-Hero list. If the Musutafu hero was registered under the Commission, they would be on that list.
But the Pro-Hero list included every limelight hero in Japan. It was thousands of names long. So that would take a while. If the Musutafu hero worked underground, they would not be on that list, and that would be a whole other problem.
A sense of dread filled Izuku as he scoured the whole list three times and still came up empty. Izuku let out a frustrated groan as he accepted the hero had to be underground.
Which made sense, but it meant Izuku would have to hack into the police station the hero worked under. And that was a lot of stations and a lot of very illegal hacking.
The only way Izuku knew how to hack was because of an online programming class he took a few years ago. He picked it up quickly and was having fun creating codes for various things. A few codes evolved into full programs, which evolved into hacking.
He didn't even realize it was hacking at first. He just wanted to get into some cameras to see a villain fight better. That was successful, but he was terrified when the police showed up later.
They told him hacking was illegal and let him go with a warning. But he couldn't just give it up, it was so useful! He knew he needed something to help him do it again without getting caught.
He spent a month perfecting the program. It was so worth it. Izuku had been able to get more information on both heroes and villains, see their fights better and no one even knew he was there!
Of course he would never want any of this information in the wrong hands, so he started writing his quirk analysis in code.
Just as Izuku pulled up the program to make his laptop untraceable, he heard the front door click open and his mother’s voice rang out.
“Where are you, you useless brat!?”
Izuku scrambled to close the program and his laptop, put the pen and empty notebook away and greet his mother, yelling back, “I'll be right there!”
“Did you just shout at me!?”
“No ma'am,” he answered, quieting his voice. He left his room, running to stand in front of his mother with his hands behind his back. The first thing he noticed was a distinct lack of cake in her arms.
The second thing he noticed was that she was in her more formal wear. Meaning she had just come from a work meeting and would have a shorter temper than normal.
He reminded himself to watch his mouth until tomorrow, when she normally calmed down. She looked at him, considering something before she smiled at him for the first time in years.
Izuku got excited. He thought she would surprise him. That she would pull out a cake from her bag. That she would sing happy birthday. That she would compliment his cleaning. Or his cooking. Or how he actually brushed his messy, tangled, vibrant green hair for once despite how painful it was.
But none of those things happened. He should have known better. But because of his mistakes and his stupid trusting self, his life as he knew it came to an end.
“Go pack your bags, we’re going on a trip!” she chirped, her expression full of false cheer. But Izuku didn't know that yet, so he scrambled to his room and packed everything he thought he needed into his backpack.
His laptop and charger, some clothes, toothbrush and toothpaste, his three blank journals, a pen, and his hairbrush.
He thought they would go somewhere fun together. That his mother would brush his hair like she used to. That she would compliment his notebooks again. That she would love him again.
But that was nothing more than a daydream. He came back to the doorway with his backpack on his back. He kneeled down as he put on the cursed bright red shoes he was forced to wear. All because of a stupid toe joint. He stood, his hands gripping the shoulder straps, brimming with excitement and patiently waiting for his mother to open the door.
When she did, he stepped outside into the cold, wet, night, and waited for her to follow. Instead when he turned around, he saw her smile had faded and was replaced by the frown he had known for years now.
“Don't you ever come back here. You no longer live here and I am not your moher.” With the last words Izuku ever heard from his mother, she closed the door and left Izuku to fend for himself.
What had he done wrong? He stood outside, racking his brain, thinking of every possible thing that he could have done to warrant being kicked out.
Was it that he hadn't cleaned for two days before then? Or how loud he'd been despite his best efforts to stay silent? Or maybe his cooking wasn't good? Or was he too needy?
Was it something wrong with him? Was it his personality? The way he dressed? Was it how many ‘stalker’ notebooks (as his peers liked to call them) he owned?
Was… was because of something he had no control over? His quirklessness? Is that why his best friend turned into his worst bully? Why his teachers never cared when he was hurt? Why his dad left?
Why his mother kicked him out?
Why his mother didn't love him anymore?
He let out a sob as he sank to the cold concrete of the walkway outside of what used to be his apartment door.
Izuku tried everything he could think of to get back into the only place he had ever known as home. He banged on the door. He tried breaking the windows.
He even screamed and cried as loud as he could in hopes his mother would take pity on him and let him back in. He hadn't raised his voice since he was six years old. It felt wrong, but he was desperate.
After who knows how long, Izuku gave up. He figured she was serious. Fine. If she doesn't want me, I don't want her! I'll show her I can survive just fine without her!
Izuku tried to dry his eyes, mind turning to what he would need to actually survive.
First things first, Izuku needed a shelter of some sort. He figured an apartment was best, but he didn't know if any near him had openings or if they would even take a good for nothing quirkless person like him.
Not to mention how he had no money. And how hesitant he was to use his laptop to search for apartments with how hard it felt like it was raining. He didn't want to damage it. It was kind of all he had now…
Izuku decided to move away from that thought as quickly as possible. He got up and started walking. Where to? Izuku had no idea. But he needed to go somewhere, preferably as far away from his moth- from Inko as he could get.
She had thrown Izuku out like trash. She didn't deserve to be called his mother.
A while of exploring and getting completely drenched later, Izuku came across a homeless shelter. He smacked his forehead with the palm of his hand. How had he not thought of that? A homeless shelter was perfect since he was…
Homeless.
He was homeless now.
Wow. That was…
Not something Izuku wanted to think about. He shook his head and walked up to the floor-to-ceiling glass doors. The lights were on but he didn't see anyone near the front, so he knocked on the glass lightly.
A feminine looking person, about 20 years old, leaned out from behind a corner inside.
Izuku gave them a small wave and they rushed to open the doors.
“What are you doing here!? Why are you alone? Who in their right mind would leave a child out in this weath-” they were looking him up and down, but had stopped mid sentence. Izuku followed their eyes and they landed on his shoes. He wanted to smack himself, of course they would notice the bright red shoes, how could they not. He laughed nervously as he tried to hide his right foot behind his left leg.
“Oh,” the person said as they studied the shoes. “We can’t help you, sorry.”
They did not sound sorry. They closed the door looking disgusted and quickly left. Izuku thought about demanding to be let in, but ultimately decided it wasn’t worth it.
He stood outside the shelter for a few minutes, trying to figure out where to go. Eventually, he figured moving was better than nothing. However, he made the mistake of letting his mind wander.
Why did society hate him? He couldn't control whether he had a quirk or not. No amount of hoping or dangerous situations could change that.
He had the extra toe joint, the ticking time bomb that was his appendix, and the distinctive red shoes.
And what does he get for this? For being born? For trying to survive? For existing ?
Hate.
Hate and only hate.
Society was cruel. Izuku knew this. But it never ceased to amaze him just how far people would go. And just because of something completely out of his control.
In just a few hours, Izuku had been thrown away by his mother and hadn’t even been given a chance in a shelter that should have helped him. All because he was fricking quirkless.
Izuku distantly noticed that he and his backpack were both soaked now. He could only hope his laptop and notebooks weren't damaged beyond repair.
He didn't notice he was crying until he realized the tears were making his vision blurry. He needed to know where he was. He thought he was still on the main street, but he had no clue. Everything seemed darker here and Izuku didn't know if that was his imagination or not.
Eventually, he stopped crying and found an alley with an overhang. There was a big green dumpster on the right wall and a large pile of slightly wet cardboard on the left. There was trash everywhere and it was not warm, but it was mostly dry and better than nothing. Izuku smiled, thinking that something in his life was finally going right for once.
He was about to put his bag down and try to sleep for the night when the cardboard shifted. Assuming it was a nice, stray cat, Izuku approached the pile, smiling, and reached out to lift the cardboard.
As expected, it was a cat. What was, somehow, unexpected, was the cat being feral. Izuku scrambled back as he saw the calico hiss, but didn’t hear it, hitting the wall behind him. He assumed the muted hiss was due to his adrenaline. The cat, obviously still feeling threatened, ran up to Izuku, bit and swatted at him, then ran back to the cardboard.
Izuku stared in shock for a moment, first at his bitten arm, then at the three kittens that had emerged from the cardboard. He knew better than to pet them now, but he understood the mothers actions better. She was only trying to protect her kittens from a perceived threat.
Izuku murmured his apologies for disturbing them as he stood on trembling legs and stumbled out of the dark alley.
He started walking again, letting the tears run freely. So now he had been kicked out twice and was attacked by a cat. Could his life get any worse?
He really shouldn't think that. It probably could and would get somehow worse. It was just how his life went. He thinks everything is ok, only to find out that it's worse than he ever thought it could be.
Why? Just why?
All Izuku wanted was to be happy and loved. To find a home. Even if he was still homeless, he would be happy and content just knowing that the people around him loved him and that he loved them.
Why was that too much to ask?
Izuku was thrown out of his thoughts again when he collided with something hard. He tripped backward over his own feet, landing on his back.
“Holy sh- shoot! Are you ok? I didn't even see you.” A voice above him said. When Izuku opened his eyes (when had he closed them?) he saw a feminine appearing person, around 20 years old, reaching a hand down to help him up.
He took the hand and mumbled his thanks. He didn't want to get hurt again, so he tried to move past the person. They wouldn't have helped him if they had noticed the shoes. No one would.
He felt his backpack being pulled away from him as the person said, “wait, wait, wait. You don't look ok and I'm not going to leave you out here. No offense, but you look like hell.”
“You shouldn't help me…” Izuku said, turning to face them. He actually looked at them this time. They were wearing a black apron with a coffee cup embroidered on the right side of their chest and a dark red t-shirt under it. Their black jeans had holes in them, but they didn't look intentional.
“And why shouldn't I help you?” They let go of Izuku’s backpack and crossed their arms in front of their chest. Izuku sighed and answered them honestly, what else could he lose?
“Because I'm quirkless.” Izuku turned away from them again, prepared for them to let him go.
“I am too.”
Izuku’s breath hitched.
Now that was not something he expected.
He slowly turned back to them again, asking if that was true. The person nodded, a smile on their face. When Izuku looked down and saw the bright red shoes mirrored on their feet, he bounced back to the stranger and asked if they knew somewhere safe to go.
“Well, would you like to go with me? I own a coffee shop nearby; it's call Underground Coffee. You could work there if you want. It's as safe as we can get, so what do you say?”
“Yes, please!” Izuku got excited again, but this time felt different. Maybe he could actually get what he wanted for once. What he needed.
“What's your name, kid?” they asked, motioning for Izuku to follow them.
“Mido-… Izuku. Just Izuku.”
“Ok then, Izuku, I'm Akira.”
“Pretty name.”
“Thanks, yours is pretty cool too.”
“Thanks,” Izuku muttered as Akira steered them toward an abandoned brick building. It was clearly falling apart and Izuku wasn't sure what they were doing here.
“What are your pronouns?” Akira asked.
“He/him, yours?”
“She/her.”
Their conversation tapered off after that. Akira led them to a pair of doors around the back of the building. It was locked together with an ancient, rusty, metal chain and an old, pre-quirk era padlock.
Akira opened it with an equally rusty key that Izuku was sure would either break off in the lock, or turn to dust before it even got close.
After she moved the chains, Izuku spotted a short set of rotted wood stairs covered in moss and algae, worn to black where people had killed them by treading over the moss. Izuku was sure they violated some safety codes. There was a red door with a small tinted window in the middle of the top half of the door. It was relatively well cared for.
Akira walked down them confidently, in the black spots, so Izuku figured it was at least somewhat structurally sound. As long as he stayed on the spots.
As he followed her down the stairs, carefully trying to not slip, he asked, “where exactly are we going? Because this feels like you're leading me to a murder room. Actually, are you a murderer? Are you going to kill me!? Please don't kill me. I might not have much but I don't want to die! I still have things I want to do! I want to-”
Izuku hadn't even realized he had stopped moving until he was cut off by Akira’s very loud laugh.
“I'm not going to hurt or kill you! Don't worry!” She said, trying to catch her breath, “Although, that's something I would have asked before I followed a stranger down a flight of stairs!”
Izuku turned red from embarrassment, finding the stairs suddenly very interesting. They climbed down the rest of the steps in relative silence, only broken by a small sound Izuku assumed to be Akira’s snickering.
When Akira went to open the door, she stopped with her hand halfway to the door, then turned to Izuku.
“Just so you know, we get kind of excited when we find someone like us, so just be ready for that, ok?” She warned him.
“‘Like us?’” Izuku asked, tilting his head.
“Those who are quirkless, those with ‘villainous’ quirks, or those who have ‘weak’ or ‘useless’ quirks.”
“Oh, right,” Izuku nodded. He stood straighter, squaring his shoulders and trying to look more confident than he felt. Judging on the smirk Akira gave, he was not successful.
She eyed him for a moment, then nodded and opened the door.
The first thing Izuku noticed was the smell. Coffee, pastries, and lavender melded together in a wonderful mix of aromas.
Most of the walls and floors were covered in a shiny light caramel-colored wood. One of the walls to the right of the entrance was made of a red brick. The cement ceiling was painted black to make the area feel bigger.
The tables, chairs and counter was a darker, more almond colored wood. There was a display case close to the back of the room, filled with sandwiches and pastries.
The whole place was covered in plants, some hanging from the ceiling, some in containers scattered around, some were even crawling up the walls!
There were patrons at every table. At least thirty people were seated in the shop, either standing behind the counter, or sitting at a table. There was a light sound of conversation, a little bit too quiet for Izuku to pick up any of the words, but still calming.
It was wonderful.
“Hey! Akira’s back! And she brought a new kid!” someone exclaimed.
The conversations stopped and everyone turned to stare at Izuku. He gave a small, shy wave, curling in on himself and trying to find the courage to not hide behind Akira.
Some people cooed at him, some just turned to continue their conversation, and some even waved back.
Akira then led him to the back and introduced him to some of the staff. He tried to remember all the names, but they just blurred together. He would have tried harder, but he was exhausted at this point.
After that, they went up a flight of stairs in the back of the staff room and down a hallway with at least twenty doors. Akira stopped at one door and told him that would be his room.
“I get a room? Why?” Izuku asked.
“Well you work here now, so of course you get to stay. You also said you had nowhere else to go and I'm a woman of my word.” She opened the door to reveal a small, but homey room.
There was a bed with light blue sheets in the far right corner of the room and a light wooden desk along the left wall. A lamp stood in the middle of a nighttable next to the bed, the only source of light in the room.
A dark wooden dresser stood on the wall across from the door, where Izuku felt a window should be. The floor was made of the same wood as the desk.
“Thank you…” he yawned.
“No problem,” Akira assured him. “Now get some sleep, you can start work tomorrow” she said as she ruffled his hair affectionately. Then walked off, telling him to call if he needed anything.
Izuku nodded. He stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. He took off his vile red shoes, threw off his backpack, and staggered to the bed. He was out as soon as his head hit the pillow. The last thought on his mind was how nice it was to be cared for.