Chapter Text
“Get the hell up.”
Izuku startled awake and blearily met the eyes of his foster father, who was standing arms-crossed above him.
“I want you ready within five minutes. It's your first day so you better not be late,” the man snapped, already turning to leave the room.
“Wouldn't dream of it,” Izuku muttered once he was gone, standing and crossing the room to shut his door.
Izuku was glad not to have to share the room with anyone else. There were two other girls in the house, both much younger than him. They shared a room so Izuku got this one for himself.
Not like he’d be staying for long though.
Izuku dressed quickly, fumbling with the tie of his uniform a few times before settling with the wonky shape of it. He pulled his shoes on, tied his long hair back, then headed to the front room to grab his school bag.
He had to wait for his foster father to unlock the cabinet that his bag was kept in. Izuku wasn't allowed to have it in his room on the off chance (high likelihood) that he would use it as a runaway bag. His foster parents locked pretty much every cabinet and door that existed within the house. There were even alarms set on the front door and the back door.
Izuku had already narrowed down what the code was, but he hadn't really had much of a chance to enact an escape plan, having only been in the house for a week. He also knew how to pick the locks, but again, his foster parents had been breathing down his neck since he got there.
Now, what could possibly warrant alarms and locks all over the house? Probably the fact that Izuku was a known runaway, who has made multiple escape attempts (some successful, some not) throughout the multitude of foster homes he’s been sent to over the years. Also, the fact that due to the sheer number of escape attempts he’s made, he had landed himself in juvie for a year and a half (well, there were a few added charges too).
Apparently, you can only run away so many times before the police actually gave a shit. Who knew?
On top of juvie, he was given parole for a year and had to go to a disciplinary school for the remainder of middle school.
A bit excessive if you ask him, having only been 12 years old when originally arrested. He was 13 now, turning 14 in a few months.
“What the hell are you standing around for? I thought I told you five minutes,” his foster father said with clenched fists.
“I need my backpack. Can't really go to school without it,” Izuku responded blankly.
The man in front of him seethed, practically bursting a blood vessel with how red his face went.
“Don't give me that attitude, boy! Be lucky we took you in. No one else wanted to deal with you after the shit you’ve pulled,” the man pushed Izuku to the side and grabbed a key from his pocket, unlocking the cabinet and grabbing Izuku’s bag from it.
“I’m so grateful you care about me so much to take me in, sir,” Izuku replied, voice leaking with sarcasm.
The man shoved Izuku’s backpack into his arms and stomped over to the front door.
“Hurry up! We haven't got all day,” the man shouted to him.
Izuku followed him out the door and into the car. The second the car doors shut, Izuku heard the click that told him the child safety locks were on inside.
He would be lying if he said he’d never jumped out of a moving car before. Probably something that’s still on his record, and the exact reason there were always safety locks inside any car he rode in afterward.
The drive wasn’t long. His social worker, Chihiro, had made sure to put him in a home near the school. Most students would just walk to school most of the time, but obviously, they couldn’t trust Izuku to walk to the school by himself without running off.
Which, is fair. Izuku had already started formulating plans to escape during the school day.
As the car pulled up at the front of the school, Izuku noticed a school officer was waiting outside.
Izuku’s foster father (he couldn’t be bothered to remember the man’s name) stepped out of the car and opened Izuku’s door from outside.
Izuku chuckled at the sight, saying, “I kinda feel like a celebrity right now. I have a personal chauffeur who opens my door for me and everything.”
That seemed to be the tipping point. The man wheeled around so quickly, that Izuku didn't even have time to process it before he was slapped across the face. Izuku winced, holding his hand up to his stinging cheek. He glanced at the school officer, who didn’t even seem to bat an eye.
“Some great cop you are,” Izuku muttered to the officer.
Izuku’s foster father raised his hand and pointed in the boy’s face, “cut the fucking attitude,” he snarled, “you’re going to learn quickly that I don’t tolerate disobedience. Now shut the fuck up and get going.”
Izuku rolled his eyes and walked past the man, going straight into the school with the officer right at his heels. As he made his way inside, Izuku noticed a few more officers standing around in the hallways. Security must be pretty tight here.
He slowed when he realized he didn’t know which classroom he was supposed to be going to, but the officer firmly grabbed him by the arm and steered him in the right direction. Two dozen pairs of eyes bore straight into Izuku when he entered the classroom.
“Ah, class, this is our newest student, Midoriya-kun. Midoriya, please introduce yourself to the class,” the teacher beckoned.
Izuku cooly glanced over the sea of students, taking note of a few obvious mutational quirks, but the majority of students didn’t have any obvious quirks that he could identify based on appearance.
After a moment too long of staring, Izuku finally responded to the teacher and introduced himself.
“Midoriya Izuku. I’m quirkless,” he offered.
Izuku remained indifferent to the reactions he received. Quite a few laughed, other’s jaws were dropped. He met the gaze of a student with bright violet hair that seemed to stick straight up as though he had been electrocuted. The boy looked slightly surprised, but his gaze remained calm.
The teacher finally spoke when the murmuring of students seemed to pick up in volume.
“Settle down, settle down. Midoriya-kun, you can find a seat near the back.”
Izuku nodded, a few students snickered at him as he walked past them. He took his seat behind the purple-haired kid. When he sat, a few students looked back to continue staring at him. Izuku rested his chin on his hand, arm propped up on the table, and stared back at them dully. After a moment, a few of them finally turned around and paid attention to the teacher as he started the lesson.
Izuku noticed the officer had stayed in the room. Whether that was normal protocol or simply to keep an eye on Izuku, he wasn’t sure, but he ignored the man and the officer did the same.
The lesson droned on for what felt like hours but was likely only a few minutes. Izuku grew bored very quickly and laid his head down on the desk, closing his eyes. He drifted off for a few minutes, the teacher’s dull voice muddling into distant white noise. He hadn't been able to get much sleep lately, and the week seemed to finally be catching up with him. Izuku had almost started drifting into dreamland when a raised voice startled him awake.
“Head up please, it may be your first day Midoriya, but I have no qualms about sending you to the principal’s office if you misbehave in my classroom,” the teacher scolded.
Izuku wanted to argue that falling asleep was a far jump from “misbehaving”, but instead rolled his eyes and lifted his head lazily to meet the teacher’s gaze. The man continued the lesson as if there had been no interruption.
The hour went by in complete boredom on Izuku’s part. Most students had started taking notes, but Izuku had settled for simply doodling in his notebook. When the period ended, the teacher left, but the officer remained. Most students turned in their desks and started chatting to each other. Izuku poked the boy in front of him, who seemed to be just as bored as Izuku was.
The purple-haired boy turned to look at Izuku with jaded eyes that almost mirrored Izuku’s own. Upon closer inspection, Izuku noticed a scar that went across the boy’s nose. The scar turned into a slight imprint that reached the boy's ears and down to his chin.
“When’s lunch?” Izuku asked.
Before the boy could respond, another boy seated across from Izuku piped up.
“Don’t talk to him unless you want to get brainwashed, he’ll make you do some freaky shit,” the boy laughed. A few others followed suit and a girl nearby elbowed him, “No! Let him! Let’s see what he’ll make the quirkless kid do!” More laughter followed.
Izuku continued to stare at the boy, waiting expectantly.
“Are you going to answer my question? Lunch? Actually, what’s the whole schedule look like? When do they let us outside?”
The purple-haired boy stared back at him silently. More laughter flowed through the classroom.
“Oh I forgot, he’s basically mute!” The girl from before jeered.
Izuku remained staring at the boy. After a minute of silence, most students went back to their conversations, but Izuku still waited for an answer.
“Do you have a schedule, or….?”
That finally seemed to solidify something in the boy, and he responded in a strained voice, “Lunch is at 10. We’re allowed to go where we want as long as we stay within school grounds. We don’t get a free period.” The boy turned around, shuffled through his bag, turned back to face Izuku, and handed him a paper.
“This is the schedule,” the boy turned back to his desk again.
As Izuku looked over the paper, a few students piped up again and started mocking the boy, but Izuku drowned them out.
“What’s your name?” Izuku asked. The boy didn’t turn back around though.
Izuku rolled his eyes but let it go. He looked over the schedule again, a plan already formulating in his head. He stood and walked over to the windows, looking out across the courtyard. A brick wall, almost 10 feet tall, separated the school grounds from the roads behind the school.
A hand rested on Izuku’s shoulder. He wheeled around, shoving the hand off of him, and came face to face with the school officer.
“Back in your seat,” the man said.
Izuku shrugged and walked back over to his desk. Not a moment later, another teacher came into the room and started her lesson.
The hours passed in slow, tortuous, boredom before the students were released for lunch.
Izuku immediately made his way outside and into the courtyard. He glanced around for a second, taking note of where the other school officers stood, but there were only two of them.
Crowds of students had started filling up the outside area. He glanced at the two officers one last time. He couldn’t tell what their quirks were, but legally they weren’t allowed to use them against Izuku (as if that had stopped officers in the past). Neither of the officers were looking directly in his direction, trying to stay focused on scanning the crowd of students for suspicious activity. Izuku decided to use the opportunity while it was presented to him.
Now, if there's one thing Izuku prided himself on, it would probably be his speed. You can’t exactly become a great runaway without mastering the art of running away.
Izuku made sure he had a firm grasp on his bag before he started charging at the fence. He barely registered the shouts of the officers, no doubt trying to reach him before he could make it to the fence.
When Izuku was about ten feet away, he threw his bag over. At five feet, he took a running jump, using his momentum to push himself over the wall. He fell into a roll, hopped up, and quickly grabbed his school bag before making a mad dash through alleyways and side streets.
After a few minutes of running, Izuku heard police sirens coming in his direction and quickly hid behind a dumpster as they passed. After he was sure the last one had passed, he continued running down the streets, trying to get as far away from the school as he possibly could.
He gave it a rest about an hour later, ducking into an alleyway that seemed to go down pretty far. Once he was sure he was out of sight from the main road and in a spot not easily seen, he slumped down against the wall, panting heavily.
He desperately needed water but decided he could wait to grab something later after the streets were no longer swarming with police looking for a 13-year-old runaway. They normally calmed down after a couple of days, most quirkless kids weren't worth the search effort.
Quirklessness at his age was extremely rare, so much so that the only time Izuku had met any other quirkless kids was when he was put in a group home for quirkless youth at 9 years old.
You would think a home dedicated and made specifically for quirkless kids would take extra care of them, but it was one of the worst homes Izuku had stayed in.
The house was mostly a publicity stunt. It was made to “prove the statistics wrong”. Those statistics were the suicide rates, homelessness rates, abuse cases, etc
They took some pictures on the first week of opening, posting them on the website and proving how “happy” the kids were. Once the cameras were gone, no one would see what happened behind closed doors.
Of course, it’s not like any of the staff laid a hand on the kids there. Instead, they were neglected and constantly revoked basic rights. Most kids would go days, even weeks without a proper shower or clean clothes. Meals were few and far between, and the staff basically manipulated the kids into believing they deserved that.
Izuku got out of there as quickly as he could. The mental damage that place had inflicted on him was excruciating. He had completely stopped trusting in adults after that.
In the end, every house was the same. If they seemed too nice at first, it was too good to be true. After a while, he started wishing most houses he was sent to would be physically abusive. That, he could handle. It was easier, less mentally taxing. Those were easier to leave, too.
He remembered the first few times he had gone to the police for help. The first time was easy, show them the bruise, get moved out. Second time, though, he didn’t have any external bruises to show. He couldn't prove anything. Once he was old enough to leave on his own, it became second nature to him. Running was easy. He didn't have to think about it. Given the choice of being homeless for a few months, hell even years, compared to living in those shitty homes? The choice was obvious.
Izuku had been in the system since he was four years old. His mother was killed in a villain attack as they were out walking. A hero—he thinks it was Endeavor—had smashed the villain into a building and it caught on fire. His mother wasn't lucky enough to escape in time before a chunk of the building fell on her. He didn't remember much about the woman, but he sometimes saw her in his dreams. Those dreams normally turned into nightmares.
His father had fucked off to who-knows-where not long before that, and Izuku didn't have any other family members.
After about a year in the system, having displayed no signs of quirk use, he was written off as quirkless. No tests, doctor visits, nothing.
Just like that, he was deemed worthless to society.
When he was 10 years old, he made his most successful runaway attempt. Of course, he had made attempts before then, some successful, but was normally caught within a few days or a couple weeks at most.
Izuku lived on the streets for a year and a half. At that age, he did anything he could to make money. Shoplifting and pickpocketing was always a go-to. Sometimes he made money by doing small jobs for people.
There were other things, too. Things he’d rather forget about.
He squatted in abandoned apartments, warehouses, and even set up a tent when he was really desperate. He couldn't go to homeless shelters because they would send him back into foster care right away.
Izuku would have to find somewhere to stay soon enough, but for now, he would catch up on his sleep on the cold, hard concrete of the alleyway.
Izuku needed to grab a change of clothes before someone recognized him in his school uniform. The main problem with that, though, was that clothes tended to be a bit more difficult to steal compared to food and drinks. They were larger, more noticeable.
But he didn't have any money, either.
It was pretty dark outside, most stores were already closed or near closing. He figured he could find a way to smuggle the clothes into his backpack, so he headed to one of the nearby department stores. It was as he was walking towards an upcoming alleyway that he heard an ear-splitting shriek come from it.
He quickly glanced around, but there wasn't a soul in sight. All of the nearby buildings were already closed and locked up for the night, so it was practically desolate.
Izuku slowly approached the alleyway and looked down it. It was hard to see, being so dark out, but Izuku could make out the silhouette of a tall, beastly-shaped man, pressing a younger woman up against the wall.
The man was choking the woman, preventing her from making a single sound as his other hand started to unbutton the woman’s shirt
Flashbacks of an eerily similar scene danced through Izuku’s memory. Days where the desperation had been too much for him.
He started running before he could even think about what he was doing.
The assailant, back turned and too caught up in what he was doing, didn't seem to notice Izuku’s approach. Izuku struck the man with his backpack as hard as he possibly could, following it up with a kick to the man’s balls. The man fell to the ground with a groan of pain.
Izuku grabbed the woman's wrist and pulled her out of the alley. They ran down at least a block before they stopped, huffing to catch their breath.
The woman, who looked to be in her early twenties, had tears running down her face.
“Th-thank you!” She sobbed out.
Izuku stood there rather awkwardly, not quite sure how to console the woman.
“Uh, do you have a phone? Can you call the police- or maybe a friend or something?” Izuku asked her.
“Uh-y-yes!”
The woman fumbled around her pockets for a moment and pulled out her phone, dialing 110 for the police.
Izuku waited with the woman as she talked to the operator on the line.
When he heard sirens approaching, Izuku ran down the street, taking one last glance back before he turned the corner to make sure the woman was safe. Izuku circled back to the alleyway to find the man still on the ground, groaning and holding onto his crotch.
Izuku gave the man another good whack to the head before crouching down and checking the man’s pockets.
He pulled out the man's phone and wallet. It probably wouldn't be too difficult to wipe the phone, so he took that and sifted through the wallet, pulling out all the cash the man had and leaving the rest of it behind.
Izuku scaled up the nearby fire escape, already able to hear police approaching the alleyway.
He hid on top of the roof for what felt like hours before the police had the man in handcuffs, shoving him into the back of the police car and finally driving off.
Now able to calm his racing heart, he decided to count the money he had found on the man. It was about $80.
Izuku came back down from the roof and finished his walk to the department store. He grabbed a few pairs of clothes as well as some food and drinks. That was enough to get him by for now, but he would have to go back to the store another day to buy more.
The events of the day had been draining enough, all Izuku wanted to do was find somewhere to stay low for a while.
He found another alleyway that seemed to work well enough for the time being. Izuku hid behind a dumpster to change, then sat down to eat from the snacks he had grabbed.
That night, Izuku replayed the encounter with the woman and her assailant over and over again in his mind. He figured it was just the adrenaline from the situation, but he was still shocked at his ability to have taken down the guy so easily.
Sure, he’s gotten into street fights before, but never intentionally. He had never been fighting against such a large attacker either. In all fairness, the man wasn't that large, but he was muscular and strong.
Now, the thought of heroism, while of course, having crossed his mind, had never been a feasible possibility for Izuku. He had never entertained the idea. Even now, just the thought of it seemed ridiculous.
Besides, heroes weren't exactly…well, let's just say Izuku never really trusted heroes. Most of them only ever seemed to care about publicity. The thought of becoming one, or even working with those pompous heroes made him want to throw up a little.
But maybe he didn't need to become a hero. He thought back to the money he had taken from the guy. Surely heroes weren't allowed to do that?
But a vigilante? They didn't have to follow the rules.
Izuku was already wanted by the police, he had broken his parole within the first week of release.
Hell, what’s another charge if he gets caught? And some extra cash along the way wouldn't hurt.