Chapter Text
Izuku was fine.
Yes, he had gotten told to kill himself and yes, he’d just gotten attacked by a villain and yes, he’d just had his dreams crushed by his idol, but he was fine.
All Might had left at some point, and the familiar sound of explosions could be heard in the distance, but Izuku couldn’t bring himself to pay attention, or even care. He had been gutted by the number one hero. He couldn’t become a hero without a quirk. He’d heard it so often in his life, yet it didn’t really hit until now. ‘Why don’t you take a swan dive and wish for a better quirk in your next life?’ All Might had left him standing on the roof of the building they landed on. Izuku sat down on the edge, gently kicking his legs as he stared down at the ground. It was a good distance down. If the fall didn’t kill him, the injuries he’d sustain on top of the current and old ones he had would kill him. He was just a worthless deku. It’s not like anyone would notice if he-
A flash of purple in the alley below him caught his eye. He almost didn’t look. Almost let it go, like everyone else always did. But he couldn’t stop himself from semi-cautiously leaning over the edge, peering into the alley.
Three older boys, uniform jackets half-off, were circling someone in the shadows.
The kid wasn’t fighting back. He just stood there - tall and quiet, with dark bags under his eyes and dull purple hair like he hadn't slept in days. They shoved him again and he stumbled.
“Use your freak quirk, come on!” one of them taunted. “Say something, brainwash us!”
The boy didn’t speak, he didn’t even look scared. Just…tired. Like this wasn’t new. Like it wasn’t even worth the energy to react anymore.
Izuku’s hands curled into fists at his sides.
He could’ve looked away. He could’ve walked down the stairs, just like All Might had turned his back on him. Maybe that was what being powerless meant - seeing something wrong and knowing you couldn’t change it.
But-
Izuku slung his bag over his shoulder.
Screw that.
He ran.
Down the stairwell. Out the school doors. Into the alley.
He wasn’t a hero. But that didn’t mean he had to stand by and do nothing.
The alley was quiet again.
Well - quiet except for the wheezing.
Izuku winced as he pressed a trembling hand to the forming bruise on his ribs. He was pretty sure one of those kids had a strength quirk. Or maybe it just felt worse after hitting the ground so hard.
Beside him, the purple-haired kid sat with his back against the alley wall, legs stretched out like he couldn’t be bothered to sit up straight. His lip was split, and there was blood on the collar of his uniform. But his eyes, dull and flat at first, kept flicking toward Izuku like he was trying to figure him out.
Neither of them said anything for a while as Izuku slowly opened his backpack, pulling out the first aid kit he always had on him when Kacchan came after him. He was going to offer it to the boy across from him but when he looked up, the boy already had an identical kit in his hands.
Izuku was the one who broke the silence. “You okay?”
The kid looked at him, like he was surprised someone had asked. “Yeah,” he muttered. “You didn’t have to jump in.”
“I know,” Izuku said, hissing as he put antiseptic on the few cuts he had. “I just…I didn’t want to be like them. The people who look away.”
A beat passed as they both tended to their wounds the best they could. The boy studied him for a moment longer before looking away again.
“They’re scared of my quirk,” he said eventually, voice flat. “They think I’ll make them walk off a roof or something.”
Izuku blinked, startled. “What is your quirk?”
The boy - Izuku really needed to ask for his name - glanced at him, like he wasn’t sure if he really wanted to explain it. But something in Izuku’s face - earnest, curious, bruised but still listening - softened his scowl just a little.
“It’s called Brainwashing,” he muttered. “If someone responds to me when I talk, I can control what they do. Only basic stuff. Move there. Pick that up. Stop.”
Izuku’s eyes widened. “That’s… whoa. That’s kind of amazing.”
The boy raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. “Most people don’t think so. They hear ‘mind control’ and start picturing supervillains. Puppets. Zombies. Whatever.”
Izuku blinked. “But you didn’t even use it.”
“Doesn’t matter,” The boy muttered. “People don’t care what I do. Just what I could do.”
Izuku understood that in a way he hated. People had already decided what he could and couldn’t be, too.
He looked down, fingers curling loosely around the strap of his backpack as he put his first aid kit away. “People treat me like I’m useless,” he said, voice low. “They treat you like you’re dangerous.”
The boy didn’t say anything. But for the first time, he looked like he might be listening, too.
“They don’t care who we really are,” Izuku continued. “Just what they think we are.”
A long pause followed as the boy out his first aid kit away as well.
“…You’re really bad at fighting,” he said eventually.
Izuku let out a weak, breathless laugh. “Yeah. I know.”
“You still jumped in.”
“I didn’t want to be like All Might,” Izuku said, before he could stop himself.
Shinso blinked. “Wait. What?”
“…Nothing,” Izuku said quickly, hugging his knees to his chest. “Forget it.”
Shinso stared at him like he wanted to press, but then just shook his head, settling back against the wall.
“Whatever,” he muttered. “Still kinda dumb. But…thanks.”
Izuku looked at him and smiled—small, tired, but real.
“Anytime,” he said, then hesitated before adding: “I’m Izuku. Midoriya Izuku”
A pause.
“Hitoshi,” the boy, Hitoshi, said, glancing at him again. “Shinso Hitoshi.”
They didn’t shake hands. But something passed between them anyway - an unspoken kind of understanding. Not friendship. Not yet. Just…recognition.
Two kids who didn’t fit. Two kids the world had written off.
But maybe not forever.